Give My Heart
by lostrocket
Summary: After Scarlett's fall and subsequent miscarriage, Rhett is tormented by guilt and grief. One night, when the faithfully vigilant Melanie has gone home as Scarlett sleeps, he can't resist visiting her bedroom.
1. Chapter 1

In the middle of the night, the house on Peachtree Street was still. The air was humid and oppressive, and nowhere more so than in Scarlett's bedroom. Slinking in to the room with the guilty grace of a thief, Rhett knelt beside Scarlett's bed and smoothed the sweat-dampened hair away from her white face with one large brown hand. With his hand on her clammy cheek, his thumb swept slowly across her temple. Under the heat of his touch, she began to stir. Still apparently asleep, she turned her face against his palm with a sigh.

"Rhett... are you here? Is that really you? Oh, Rhett...no, why are you...would you be..." Her head tossed, pulling away from his palm.

A grip of ice banded his chest, squeezing, constricting his breathing. Of course, she didn't want him. Why would she? He had caused this pain. He had laid her low like this.

"You must be a dream," Scarlett murmured, feverish. "He wouldn't come...he hates me, the baby...oh, Rhett," she thrashed and began to flail. Worried she may hurt herself, Rhett gently pinned her arms and pressed his cheek to hers to whisper, "Hush, Scarlett. You must stay still."

He felt the flutter of an eyelash as her eyes drifted unevenly open.

"Rhett? Is it really you?"

His mouth opened but he couldn't speak. To say yes and feel her recoil, retreat. Her arms heaved again, but his grip had gone slack and they slipped from under his slick, sweaty palms.

He was surprised to feel her arms drape around his shoulders. There was no clutch or press; weakened, her thin limbs lay on him like so much silk, barely heavier than breath. His heart thudded painfully.

"Oh, Rhett, you're here. You're here."

He shifted, uncomfortable, waiting for the blow. "I...Scarlett," he began, the stammer foreign on his tongue.

Her voice was fading. He could feel her eyelashes fluttering fast against his cheek. A whisper of movement or maybe just the air disturbed. "Hold me, Rhett...sorry...don't go."

He stirred restlessly. She was delirious, but this was his fault. This was all his fault.

His arms were careful as he lifted her own from his shoulders and folded them down, gentle as he gathered her close. The bed dipped under his weight, sliding her closer as he shifted to lay alongside her. His own breathing was loud and harsh in his ears, and he muffled it in her hair. Her breath was barely a sigh across his clavicle. He wasn't sure if his neck was damp from her tears or his own guilty sweat.

…

Mammy came to check on Scarlett before dawn. Her face was heavy with the sorrow of the last few days but a broad grin briefly cracked it when she found Scarlett in the cradle of Rhett's broad chest. Leaving behind the metal tub of clean, coolly wet cloths for soothing her patient, she retreated swiftly, and plodded to the kitchen to send a maid up with breakfast for, optimistically, two. Scarlett had been turning away from all but cool, clear water for days but, perhaps...well. Cap'n Butler!

Rhett stirred as a disturbance gradually penetrated his sleep-fogged brain. There must be a damn bird at the window, he thought. He wanted to roll over, to get up and throw the sash and chase the unwelcome morning away. But he was trapped by slight arms, a black head on his chest. His eyes flew open. _Scarlett_.. The bird was his wife, making soft, pained chirps against his chest.

"Shh," he soothed, knowing no words to help her. He was afraid to touch her more than the arm draped lightly over her hip, unsure of where her hurts lay, feeling that - inside and out - she was a minefield for him. One of her hands on his waist clenched frantically at his shirt. He cupped it softly with his own, his arm bent awkwardly.

"Shh, Scarlett," he whispered again, his fingers stroking her hand and softening her grip. With a soft, gasping exhale, her fingers relaxed and she quieted down again. Rhett smoothed her opened palm on his waist. He shifted, raising his head to look around, and saw the breakfast tray set on a table. A lot of breakfast for a convalescent, infrequently conscious Scarlett. He quirked a sardonic brow. He had been caught.

Scarlett's breathing was regular again, deep in sleep. He slid slowly, carefully from the bed, placing her hand on the sheets, not letting it fall. With a quiet Indian stalk he crossed to the breakfast tray. The guilt still heavy in his gut roiled at the sight of food, so he poured himself a coffee only. He dropped into the watcher's chair placed next to Scarlett's bed, cupped the mug in both hands and stared over it at his wife. Mammy must have been in recently as a gentle, vague steam still wafted off the liquid to tickle his chin.

Scarlett.

What to do?

He tried to remember, to decipher her broken whispers from last night. His name, unmistakable. Not with hate or anger; but then her voice was hoarse and soft and too weak for any inflection at all, it seems. And no...but hold me. Could she want him here?

Unexpectedly, his gut tightened with a vicious clench, the guilt in his stomach a bitter acid. The guilt was deep, went beyond the fall which had left her broken in this bed. It went back over the last three months, whirling wildly, drunkenly through Charleston and New Orleans with his child, stolen from her mother. His Bonnie, who screamed with terror and called for him in the night, and looked up at him with her big blue eyes in her mother's face as she asked for that mother every morning. The guilt rolled back three months, carrying a frantic Scarlett up the wide stairs that she would later tumble back down, stifling her struggles with a punishing hold. _But hadn't she kissed him back? Hadn't she turned to him with nearly forgotten passion, with fervor and - and presence, that had never been there before? And cowardly, he'd run away…_ He shoved these thoughts down. With her broken body before him he couldn't see anything but the accumulation of his own guilt. Scarlett didn't fall down the stairs. She fell down the mountain of Rhett Butler's sins.

The litany of sins went even deeper. Taunting her but never trusting her. Showering her with gifts, but no honesty for what he was trying to buy. Protecting himself, his own heart, like a coward again. In his own hateful stew, he was unaware of the tempest glowering in his black eyes. _It's all his fault!_

But Scarlett stirred then, her fist again clenching and releasing, empty. When her eyes fluttered open they met his hard, bitter gaze and she automatically recoiled.

With a bitten-off curse, Rhett leapt to his feet. Of course, it was just the night. Maybe a nightmare where any comfort would have done as well as his. This was his fault, and Scarlett - who hadn't wanted him for years, anyway - surely hated him now. He almost dropped the mug back on the breakfast tray before he headed to the door, his long legs carrying him there in swift strides. A whisper caressed his ears but his hand was on the knob before it slipped into his brain.

"No! Rhett...oh please...don't..."

She hadn't finished the sentence but it's unmistakable. Isn't it? He wanted it to be, wanted her to be asking him to stay. She shouldn't be. He shouldn't believe it, and almost couldn't, but he wanted to. The burning guilt in his gut cleared abruptly and he felt hollow. And empty. And most of all, tired. He was so tired, these years together have exhausted him. Playing the game every day with Scarlett. Watching and waiting but most tiring, keeping himself close to himself alone. Hiding from Scarlett. From his wife, damnit! _She was still his wife._

He released the knob and turned back to the bed. Scarlett's eyes were open and clear, now. For now. They were dry, huge in her drawn face. He tried to read them but his usual sense of clarity regarding his wife's motives had left him in the confused morning. Wary? But what else? His cocky grin was ready, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He wasn't so far gone from a gentleman that he could mock her now, but he had no habit of level conversation with her. With his own wife.

How had they gotten so lost?

He merely shrugged, instead. Returned to the table for his mug of coffee and sat back down. The mug was a fragile, inadequate shield.

"Good morning, Scarlett." What else to say? They will have to talk. They will, finally, have to talk. Or not. They can go on, cocooning themselves in separate bitter shells, outsides prickly with self defense. Neither of them have been honest.

Scarlett was flushed, the color in her cheeks startling against her general pallor. Her eyes were pale, too, and light, and for a long time he thought he was lost in them. Lost without seeing, without comprehension. He wasn't looking for truth in them this morning - he was glad enough to see life in them. Her breathing was too fast, too shallow; her lips slightly parted and dry. She must be thirsty. He turned away, rose and moved back to the tray – did he imagine one sharper breath, a pained gasp? - and traded his mug of coffee for a glass of water. Returning to her side, Rhett lowered himself gingerly to the mattress.

"Can you drink this, Scarlett?" She nodded and he slid his arm gently under her shoulders. Her coarse black hair caught on his rough fingertips and dragged through the hair on his arms. A shiver passed between them. He lifted gently, raising her up as he brought the glass to her lips. Her hands came up to clasp it just under his grip but he did not relinquish. Her fingers felt cold and he doubted she could actually hold it on her own. Slowly, Scarlett drained the water. Rhett smiled with relief, and encouragement, and it was natural and unforced so feels almost strange on his face.

Her clear green eyes watched him like a wild animal.

He turned back to the tray. "Mammy brought breakfast. Do you think you can eat something?" No, they won't talk yet. Heal her, first, before they can - maybe - heal each other. Heal _them_. She didn't answer and he didn't check but grabbed a plate of eggs and a fork. Was this for him? Was this something Scarlett should or could eat? As had ever been the case with her, Scarlett had put him on unfamiliar ground.

What did one feed to one's estranged, bitter, beloved wife as she recovered from the loss of your child at your own hands?

He returned swiftly to the bedside chair. Scarlett's eyes had closed. Though her breathing was still too shallow, some of the flush had gone out of her cheeks. Asleep again. Rhett's forceful gaze lingered on her until he gave up, ducked his head and ate the eggs himself. Returning to the tray, he grazed on cold bacon and sipped his coffee, most of its warmth now gone.

A quiet flurry of sound from downstairs and he figured Melly had arrived for her daily vigil in the sick room. Nursing her best friend who, even more so conscious than not, wouldn't appreciate her or the effort. His mouth twisted scornfully before a surge of guilt wiped it off, and Scarlett broken at the foot of the stairs flashed in his brain. His head was pounding.

Guilty, uncomfortable, he didn't want Melly to find him in Scarlett's room. He slipped out to his own room before her gentle eyes could catch him. For the first time since Scarlett's fall, he closed his door.


	2. Chapter 2

His head was still pounding late that night, as he sat again in the chair beside Scarlett's bed.

When Melly had gently knocked on his door earlier, he had been halfway through another bottle. She had stood in his open doorway every night since the fall, her updates on Scarlett's condition ringing sharply in his ears. No, not better; no she hasn't asked for you. Muddled now from drink and circling his brain into knots with thoughts of the last night and morning, he hadn't wanted to see her. He hadn't moved, but Melly's clear voice slipped through the thick oak.

"Captain Butler, Scarlett's much better. I'm going home again - I'll tell the children, she's much improved." She paused, but he made no outward acknowledgement. Inside, he felt his heart gripped even tighter in a vise. Shouldn't relief feel differently?

Melly had continued on. "Captain Butler, she - she just fell asleep again but - but, before I left, she was awake, we said goodbye, and…she wondered where you were."

His morose head had lifted from the glass, from bitter contemplation of whiskey muddy brown in the dark. And again the vise squeezed him tighter.

"Captain Butler?"

It felt like wading through a swamp, but he had risen and opened the door to Melly. To her credit - no other way, with Melly - she did not recoil when a wild man opened his bedroom door. How many days now, since he had shaved? And days of more alcohol than food, more cigar smoke than fresh air. But Melly had held her ground, though her smile was weak.

"Captain Butler. I'm going home, and Scarlett is asleep, but she has been so much more often awake today. She has been restless. She asked after you. Could you sit with her a while, make sure she is resting? I can ask Mammy to bring you some supper on my way out."

Supper would barely start to make him human again, but he had nodded. Found his voice, for Melly, though it was hoarse and gravelly.

"Thank you, Miss Melly. Of - of course, I will go sit with her." He had stumbled over this thought, unable to pretend that it was natural. Natural for other husbands and wives, perhaps, to provide succor and support in times of need. Had he ever supported Scarlett? Damn his reasons, it felt now that he had always been abandoning her at the crossroads. "Thank you," he had repeated, lamely.

But Melly had given him a brilliant smile and pressed his hand before she left.

Normally loquacious and unafraid to give any O'Hara or Butler her mind, Mammy only nodded once when she brought the promised dinner tray. Rhett, in the chair beside the bed, took it on his knees. He ate quickly, an appetite for food returning at last. He rubbed his hand ruefully over his stubbled chin. But Scarlett seemed sound asleep, hadn't so much as wrinkled her nose while he ate. He leaned over her - and clamped down, hard, on the impulse to brush a kiss against her hair. She didn't stir, and so he left back briefly for his own room. He shaved, and splashed some water under his arms before choosing a clean shirt.

And then, because this morning Scarlett had said "don't," and because Melly had said she asked after him - it wasn't quite asking for him, but why would she? He stayed.

In the middle of the night, the soft clamor of her nightmare woke him, stiff and sore in the small chair. He gathered her close again, laid beside her and whispered into her hair. Her eyes opened, briefly, shining like a cat's eyes in the moonlight. "Rhett!" she gasped.

"I'm here, Scarlett." He reassured her, clasping her as firmly as he dared.

"Stay -" she choked out. "Stay."

…

When Rhett woke up in the bright sunlight, Scarlett was watching him. The light playing across her face sparked her eyes to emerald, throwing off life and renewing vigor. One of his arms was asleep, slung awkwardly across the pillow above her head. The other rested lightly on her hip, and he pressed his fingers into her flesh involuntarily as his whole body rippled with a waking stretch. Her eyes flashed, and he hoped he was reading her correctly when he flattened his palm and spread his fingers instead of removing the hand and himself.

"Good morning, Scarlett," he tried again. Strangely, Scarlett flushed, but she didn't say anything. Rhett hadn't heard a full sentence from her since they had stood on the stairs and dueled. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he saw another overloaded breakfast tray. "Would you like some breakfast today?"

"Oh, yes - please." Ever the little glutton, Rhett thought, but he smiled at her with fierce relief at this sign of improvement and kissed the tip of her nose before rolling out of her bed.

He busied himself unnecessarily with the breakfast food, trying to regain control. His guard was down. He should not be kissing her. The crazy adrenaline pain on the stairs, the utter blackness of the last few days, more whiskey than air in his system - but despite her weakened state he still struggled against the risk of letting his guard down around Scarlett. She hadn't turned him away but he wasn't sure what she had asked for, exactly. He wanted them to talk, wanted to deal the cards one at a time and watch her respond. He was not ready to go all in and he meant to care for her health without risking himself just yet.

With a selection of food for two piled high on a warm plate, he sat back down in the bedside chair and balanced the plate on his knees. Scarlett had pushed herself higher on the pillows - not quite sitting up, but a sign of more strength than she'd shown since - well, since. He smiled at her encouragingly, then scooped a small bite of egg onto a fork and held it out to her. Again Scarlett flushed, and she dropped her eyes away.

"Rhett, please. I can - I can feed myself. It's alright." When she lifted her head again he looked at her doubtfully, but obediently handed her the fork. This docility was new to him, but the memory of her eyes before they shuttered at the foot of the stairs had altered him, at least for now. Those fading eyes loomed large behind his eyelids every time he closed his own eyes.

Scarlett's hand trembled and she spilled some of the egg as she ate, but she did manage. Rhett and Scarlett shared the eggs, but she turned her head away from the waffles and bacon. Rhett wolfed down both portions. He felt out of control. There was Scarlett; there was his guilt; there was drunkenness and deep sleep with the comfort of her in his arms - he felt like he was careening wildly between extremes of existence. It made him hungry. He pushed the plate across the floor towards the table when he finished, then rested his elbows on Scarlett's mattress. With his hands clasped below his chin, he looked her over. She was flushed again, under his scrutiny, and there was more color to her eyes as well, he thought.

"You look better, Scarlett." Not well, yet; but better was a start. Her mouth dropped open a few times but for a long while, neither of them spoke. He worried that anything he might say, even an apology, would just provoke her, and she wasn't strong enough for that. Never mind anything else he might wish to say! And he suddenly found Scarlett's face inscrutable, like injury and pain had drawn a curtain across her and for once, her thoughts were hidden from him.

_Rhett could not know how deeply she is working within herself. She had retreated within herself so she can think things through in peace. Her husband looked haggard and ghostly, though slightly improved since she had opened her eyes in pain and nightmare to find herself in his arms. She hadn't expected that. Had tried, fighting the lull of drugs, not to even dream of it. After all he'd said - before this wracking pain unfurled within her; after three months gone while her unnamed, inexplicable hopes had bloomed and quickly died - with all that, with what she thought she understood, it made no sense. Rhett didn't want her. _She wanted him and he didn't want her._ Yet he was here, now. For two nights. He looked like he had been lost for days, with sunken eyes and gaunt face. Math had been her best subject but this human arithmetic did not add up. Rhett didn't want her; he hadn't even wanted this baby; he cared so little for her - why was he here? Deep within herself she was reviewing everything - the balance of their overlapping lives, their life together, trying to check them like her store ledgers and make him make some sense to her.  
_

At the bottom of his vision Rhett saw Scarlett's hand, open and close, clench and release the empty air. He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed gently. With a sigh, tension visibly flowed out of Scarlett. She sank into the bed and closed her eyes. His thumb gently rubbed her skin while she slept.

…

Melly stopped by in the early afternoon. She brought a dinner tray into the room and relieved Rhett of his vigil over the sleeping Scarlett. He took advantage of the shift change to soak in a long bath, fully cleansing himself for the first time since his return to Atlanta. He went to Melly's to visit the children. When he sat, Bonnie climbed him, pouting prettily and begging to go home. Wade and Ella both pressed themselves close to his sides. Scarlett was still sleeping so much - she would be too much disturbed by the return of the children, especially their boisterous daughter. Even though she was close by, Rhett had never been this long from Bonnie and it curiously pained him that she was doing so well at the Wilkeses. She maybe even was learning something in Melanie's care, for when he slipped his pocket watch back from her grasping hands she barely pouted before relenting.

He remembered Scarlett accusing him of spoiling Bonnie. He admitted to himself - he had been campaigning for sole place in his daughter's heart. For two years he had tried to push Scarlett out. Just another stone of guilt in his heart. He kissed them all goodbye, left them with promises and reassurance. On his way home he confessed to Scarlett, in his heart, that she wasn't completely wrong.

He thought of Bonnie, her mother's miniature. The likeness went beyond the physical - her vigor, her courage, her energy - she reminded him so of Scarlett. Rhett thought, she was like Scarlett used to be - maybe could have been - without the war and the years of hardscrabble poverty at Tara to scare and scar her soul.

Rhett reined up his horse in the middle of the street. He'd never thought before - so much time had passed since that barbecue! So much war. They'd both grown and aged so much. But Scarlett - how old was she that day? It was so long ago - and yet, he'd known then, she was barely more than a child. So much time - but really, Scarlett was still young. And war, and hasty marriage, had curtailed her childhood before she grew out of it in her own time. And for so many of the years since then, she had been burdened with the caring of others. What time had there been for her own care? Her own growth.

It was suddenly occurring to Rhett how much more he should have done for her. He had laughed in her face when she took up with Republicans and Scalawags; he had mocked her for everything; over Bonnie, he had threatened her. She was still so young - as her husband - he could have dealt more plainly. He should have taken a stand, for her. He should have spoken to her with truth. He was fighting so hard for Bonnie's future, now. He had never fought for Scarlett. Even in Charleston these last few months, he had carelessly beaten her down to her own family, caught up in building Bonnie's future with no care for his own wife.

Could they have worked, together, to parent their daughter? To compromise. Rhett wasn't sure Scarlett knew the word! But he could have let Scarlett's discipline balance his own indulgence instead of ruthlessly overriding her, placing Bonnie in the middle of their venomous war of wills. Scarlett was hard, and he was free and easy. He was winning the tug-of-war over Bonnie - planting her firmly on his side of the line - but the battle was still wrong. And Wade and Ella! He loved them as his own children. He had no son but Wade; he had been near crazy with jealousy wishing Ella was his own before she was even born. He could have – should have been a bridge to bring them closer to their mother. He had lashed her mercilessly with her failures as a parent, and failed them all by abdicating any responsibility there.

He jolted the horse back into motion. He would send Melly home. He would care for his wife. 


	3. Chapter 3

Two days. Scarlett was now awake more often than not, but her sick room was still a quiet, muffled place. Melly had left her in Rhett's care, and though she still came around to check on Scarlett in the morning and afternoon Rhett stayed with her the rest of the time. He made sure she ate, a little more at each successive meal. When she became sweaty in agitated sleep, he wiped her brow. They barely spoke. Good morning, and are you hungry, and just a few more bites.

Two nights. Scarlett slept in the cradle of his arms. He kept his separate vigil in the uncomfortable chair as she dozed at dusk, but both nights she woke up in the dark and reached for him. She asked him to stay. Ruthlessly he tried to stamp out the hope in his heart. He reminded himself over and over again, a silent litany: _She loves someone else. It has always been Ashley. She did not want this baby - my baby. She is only weak and hurt._ She had cursed him for it - for the night that had led to it. But he remembered her pale face on the stairs. _Can this mean you've been missing me?_ He fought the urge to press her hard against his chest. _Get well, Scarlett. Get well._

On the second day, Melly brought the children with her in the afternoon. They had been quiet, pale shadows in her house, even bright Bonnie, and with Scarlett's condition improving they could stand to be reassured. Rhett and Scarlett both beamed at the three small faces as Melly ushered them through Scarlett's doorway before seating herself near the window, out of the family circle.

Bonnie ran across the room on her sturdy Irish legs, her chubby fists grasped at the covers on top of the bed. And Scarlett laughed! A hoarse, unused sound, but her face was bright.

"Oh, Rhett - lift her up here, please!" She opened one arm for their daughter and beckoned the other children close with her free hand. "It's so good to see you all," she said softly as she kissed each cheek in turn, hugging them close. "Are you being good for Aunt Melly?"

Ella and Bonnie were soon vivacious and chatty, stumbling over each other. Ella hadn't completed a sentence and Bonnie's were unintelligible but Scarlett was smiling warmly. Ella climbed up on the bed opposite Bonnie. Only Wade stood pressed against Rhett's side, silent. Rhett followed the movement of his shining hair from above, as Wade swiveled his head between his mother and stepfather.

As Ella chirped aimlessly from topic to topic, and Bonnie patted at Scarlett's cheeks endlessly trying to monopolize her mother's attention, Scarlett suddenly reached out from between her daughters. She was reaching for Wade with an open hand. Rhett gave him a nudge and he shuffled closer to his mother. Rhett watched as she grasped her son's hand.

"Are you having a good time with Beau, Wade?" Wade nodded, ducking his head shyly. Rhett splayed his palms hard against his own thighs. Ella seemed more comfortable with her mother since he'd been gone, but Wade was fearful and reluctant as ever. Scooting the chair close enough to Scarlett's bed that his knees pressed indentations into the mattress, Rhett scooped Wade up on his lap. Rhett wasn't sure what she could mean by it, but even he could see that Scarlett trying.

Scarlett glanced at him briefly, gratitude in her eyes, before scanning again to Wade and across to Melly by the window. Suddenly she brightened, raising her eyebrows as she turns back to Wade.

"Have you been General Pickett again?" she asked her son with a gently smile.

Rhett didn't understand, but Wade clearly did. He shifted on his stepfather's lap, suddenly squirming with excitement bubbling over.

"Oh, yes, Mother; and we have set up camp in the garden and Aunt Melly let us eat in our camp just like real soldiers."

"They 'bushed me!" interjected Ella with a scowl.

"Oh dear," Scarlett murmured. Rhett could see that her eyes were vague, but credited her with the verbal effort.

"Well we have to have Yankees to fight," retorted Wade. "Otherwise what good is it to be a soldier?"

"Well I'm not a Yankee," Ella sniffed back, but she was already moving on. "Mama, can I bring a new doll to Aunt Melly's? Bonnie got her porridge in Sally's hair."

Rhett knew just which doll was Sally, though he doubted Scarlett did. "Yes, Ella," Scarlett sighed, and Rhett saw a flash of the old, expected irritation flicker in her eyes at her flighty daughter's change of subject. To his surprise, she covered it quickly with a smile for her daughter. What was behind her new interaction with the children? Was it just a weary, convalescent spirit or had something changed with the trio he left at home?

The whisper of Melanie's skirts signaled that she had left her chair and was approaching the bed. "Come now, children. Your mother still needs her rest to grow strong again."

"No naps!" Bonnie chirped. With a chuckle that surprised him again, Scarlett kissed their daughter on her cheek.

"Mama wants her nap, Bonnie. Remember to be a good girl for Aunt Melly, darling." Scarlett relinquished her youngest to Melly, and kissed Ella's tousled hair before the girl climbed down off the bed. With her arms free, Scarlett opened them to Wade. As her son slid off Rhett's lap to give his mother a long hug, Rhett could see her eyes fill with tears above his head.

Holding Bonnie, Melly bent down to kiss Scarlett on the cheek.

"You look so much better, dear Scarlett. It's so good to see life in you again." Scarlett blushed under Melly's care and responded with a distracted nod. The crowd trooped from the room with a flurry of waving arms and loud goodbyes.

As the door shut between them, Rhett leaned back in the chair. Hoping for a nonchalant air, he clasped his palms across his ribs as he looked at his wife. Mockery comes easily - "what a touching display, my pet" - and as he bit back those words he thought again how lost they have been. To speak to Scarlett without spite takes effort; to speak to her honestly - he only hoped he could, eventually.

Scarlett plucked at the coverlet as the children's voices faded, and were eventually cut off the by thick oak front door shutting behind them. The whole house went still and quiet for a long moment.

"General Pickett?" Rhett finally murmured. Scarlett blushed and looked away.

"It's - it was only a game I saw him playing with Melly, and Beau, while you were gone." Rhett nodded, though with her face turned away she couldn't see it.

"Ah," he responded. "Well, my dear, it's getting late. I believe I should go track down your supp-"

"Rhett!" Scarlett burst out, "oh, you were right. Wade - my _son_ \- is terrified of me." Her voice was raw and fierce and she turned her head back, locking burning eyes on him. "Ella - Ella's not so bad - she's as flighty as a bird and all it takes is a smile and she's forgotten if she was afraid." A more familiar note of scorn crept into Scarlett's voice as she talked about her oldest daughter, but it was quickly gone when she mentioned Wade. Her voice lowered huskily. "I didn't know - there was always so much to do. No one else would have - Tara, the store, the mill - we needed the security...Only now that we're safe - you were right! Oh Rhett. He hates me."

For a long while Rhett could only look at her, in her bright green eyes with the sparkle of unshed tears in the corners. His stomach cramped remembering that conversation - it may have been true, but he hadn't needed to cut her down like that. Lashing her with her failures as a parent didn't have anything to do with his armor of self-protection, honed to keep the truth of his heart from her sharply conniving mind. All he had done was hurt her - and then abandoned the stepchildren he loved nearly as much as his flesh and blood daughter. Scarlett, he was sure, was too obtuse to see he wouldn't have left the children with a truly terrible mother. She'd never been overly warm or demonstrative but she would give her own life to make sure her children were safe and secure. Hadn't she tried to give her life over to him all those years ago in the jail, for the security of her family home – and the people sheltered within it? She could be harsh, she had little patience, but at least today, in this room, she looked to be trying.

He needed her, Rhett knew. In the horror and agony of her fall, her broken body, the uncertain first few days of her recovery, the ferocity of his feeling had been undeniable. And he was seeing, now, how she could need him - and starting to hold a thought in his mind that she might be...receptive. It was a fragile hope, a light in his heart too tentative to look full on.

Rhett leaned forward and clasped her hands, covering them with his own large hands. "He loves you, Scarlett. I'm sure if you make a little time for him, he'll come out from that shell."

Scarlett lowered her eyes again. "I was trying, while you were gone...he's so open and free around Melly, but he bottles right up and won't look at me if I come around. And I don't know what to do with a little boy any way -" Scarlett laughed scornfully. "I don't know what to do with a little girl either, but Ella doesn't seem to mind."

"What are you doing, Scarlett?"

Her fingers tightened almost painfully on his as she whirled her bright eyes back to him.

"I want to be a good mother, Rhett. I don't know if I can - I know I'm not like Melly, with her patience and her gentleness, but I do love them. I do love my children." Her mouth hung open slightly as if she had more to say, but she did not continue.

"Bonnie asked for you every day," Rhett said abruptly. Scarlett's jaw dropped a bit more. "Every morning she wanted to know if we would see her mother that day, if you would be coming to join us." Pausing, Rhett closed his eyes to take a deep breath. He dropped her hands, but locked eyes with her again.

"I'm sorry I took her away, Scarlett. I'm sorry I kept her away so long. I'm sorry I didn't tell you where we were." 

A tear trickled from one burning green eye. "I didn't know when you would come back - if you even would. I was afraid - you could have taken her to Persia and I'd never have seen her again!" Rhett hung his head, the weight of his remorse dragging him down. He watched one small white hand flutter before she rested just the fingertips on the back of his own large, brown fist. "If I'd known where you were, I would have written. I would have told you, about the baby..."

He shivered, his body running hot and cold at the same time. The hot guilt surged back up in his gut while cold ice gripped his heart. He stared at her fingers. They were so small. He had a dim memory of lying in bed on their too-brief honeymoon, holding up their hands palm-to-back to study, together, how her small hand fit in his own. Even in the total quiet of the house, he was lost in thought and barely heard her whisper. Her words were barely more than breath.

"I wanted this baby...Rhett, our baby..." The small fingers pressed almost imperceptibly into his skin, and then he was startled to see a tear slide down the knuckle of her forefinger and knew it was his own.

He pulled his hand free abruptly and in just a few long strides he was at the bedroom door with Scarlett's inchoate cry ringing in his ear - but all he did was throw the lock. He kept his eyes on hers as he moved back to the bed. Peripherally he saw a flush of relief infuse her cheeks, but her eyes were pained and confused. He sat sideways on the edge of the bed, maintaining eye contact as he tugged off his boots. As he swung his legs up his eyes didn't let go of hers until he folded his arms around her and gently pressed her to his chest. A choked gasp opened the floodgates and soon he felt her tears soaking through his shirt as her shoulders shook against him. His own tears cleft silent tracks down his swarthy cheeks.

After a long time, when his wet face had dried to stiffness and Scarlett was quietened and still, he gently moved her back from his chest so he could speak low into the hair above her ear. "I wanted our baby too, darling."

Eventually, after the sun set and the room was dark, he loosened his cravat and slid his long legs under the covers. They fell asleep still sitting up, her head pillowed on his chest and her long black hair clinging to the sticky tear tracks on his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

Old habits died hard and when Rhett awoke in the dim predawn light, his nerves felt alive and restless. He retreated to the first floor study without a backward glance. His own business correspondence and updates from the store and those damned mills had piled up while he'd been shut in with Scarlett. He rang for coffee and it came with breakfast for one. He didn't look up but after his door shut again, he could hear Mammy's heavy tread on the stairs - taking Scarlett's meal up.

With ruthless necessity, Rhett closed his heart and buried himself in work. The coffee was ice cold the next time he reached to pour a fresh mug. When he rose to pull the drapes, the sun was high in the sky. It wasn't yet late. He moved back to stand over the desk. A week's worth of balance sheets from the mills were spread across the felt blotter.

Ashley Wilkes was a poor manager. Without Scarlett's oversight, without the profits of the hard-driving Johnnie Gallegher's mill to cover him, Ashley would be deep in the red. He clearly couldn't carry the mill by himself; but as long as they were Scarlett's mills, she would have to stay wrapped up in Ashley. Shuffling the balanced papers back together, Rhett started to think about how to cut those cords.

...

It was full dark, outside and in, when Rhett returned to Scarlett's bedside. Her dark lashes bristled across her pale cheeks - he felt a cool whisper of relief that she'd already fallen asleep. Without quite intending to, he had been avoiding her all day, needing the break from the suffocating emotional weight of her sickbed. He left his boots in his bedroom so he could cross the floor on silent feet; left jacket, waistcoat, and tie behind as well. He could smell the trace of whiskey on his own breath, but it was nothing like the bottle he had been drowning in just a few days previous.

It was the first time he forwent the chair completely and lowered himself on the bed next to her, though still on top of the covers. The bed dipped under his weight, tipping Scarlett closer to his legs. She grumbled wordlessly and tossed her head. Rhett cupped the crown in one large hand and moved his thumb in a soothing stroke along the thick straight hair. The movement pulled back several strands that were slung across her cheeks. Scarlett wasn't looking quite so pale; it wasn't the flush of fever, or embarrassment, or anger either. Even in the silvery moonlight, her cheeks had a healthier glow than he'd seen since her fall. He felt intensely light with the relief of her recovery; so light and airy it left a frightening emptiness in his chest.

Keeping his hand gently on her skull, he used his free hand to pluck a cigar from his pocket, clamped it between his teeth so he could light it. He was careful to blow the smoke towards the window, away from Scarlett. His eyes, adjusted to the moonlight, picked out the details of her room. He was a stranger here, now. He hadn't paid much mind before, caught up in pain and worry. With the door closed against him he had hated this room. From the other side, it was still a stifling place, like the rest of the house. When it had all seemed to fail - giving her her every whim, bright new bonnets, the finest jewelry - the weight of the house had settled across his shoulders like an albatross. It had amused him, before. Scarlett's exuberantly bad taste spilling out everywhere, plush velvets and bright colors and glistering shine. Her personality shone in it, and hummed through his nerves wherever he walked in the house. As they grew more and more estranged, it had rubbed him raw.

In the moonlight, as he looked out from his wife's bed, the room seemed warm again. He felt the heat of her body pressed along his thigh; her breath seeped softly through the thin fabric of his shirt and stirred the fine hairs along the side of his abdomen.

He stubbed the cigar out in an empty glass left on the nightstand, releasing a burst of strong tobacco scent. He felt Scarlett stir along his leg, and his hand slid as she turned her head to look up at him. Neither spoke. By the set of her jaw, Rhett thought there would be no overture from her this night. She had given him a piece of her bare heart last night; and once again in her openness he'd abandoned her before the dawn. Unable to bear her, he broke their gaze and looked back to the window. Scarlett turned her head back down and he cupped her skull again briefly, then started stroking her long hair. He could feel her breath through his shirt again, but after several long minutes it still hadn't changed to the slow, deep rhythm of sleep.

Rhett stood, his back to the bed and his hands at his waistband. Half turning his head, he murmured, "Scarlett, I'm awfully tired of sleeping in my clothes. Do you mind?" He imagined her blush, heard the rustle of the bed as she shook her head. He undid the trousers and slid them off, the long shirt covering him until he slid under the covers next to her. For a moment they were both stiff, side by side under the cool, heavy sheets. Then he felt her press against his arm, and he lifted it for her to slide in close. Drawing her head to his chest, he pressed a kiss into her hair.

Scarlett was recovering, though not yet well. He spent the nights in her bed. They breakfasted together quietly, if not completely silent. One day he excused himself politely; the next she grabbed his hand as he rose from the bedside chair. Her fingertips were cool along his wrist for a moment before she let go. He checked himself.

"Good day, Scarlett," he murmured, pressing a dry kiss to her forehead. "I'll be back for supper."

In the morning he went through paperwork, contracts and telegrams, ledgers and receipts. He rode to the Wilkeses' for dinner with his children, Melanie, and Beau. He took the long way home - the very long way, one day circling the town, one day stopping at the Girl of the Period for cards and drinking (he pictured Belle's scorn in his mind, could hear her accusations of _drinking once again from Scarlett's poison_, and knew he had to stay well away from her house).

Supper with Scarlett was not so quiet as breakfast. He kept her abreast of her businesses, although her eyes seemed curiously glazed and bored during his updates. Certainly she showed no more interest in Ashley's business than that of Gallegher or the store, and that he found most welcome, even encouraging. Scarlett had little to say to him. Guiltily, he wasn't sure how she had passed these long, convalescent days.

On the third day as he kissed her forehead, he felt his shirtsleeves shift, the fabric bunching for a moment in her clutching fists. "I'll be back for supper," he murmured, but after dinner with the children he was restless. He turned his horse towards the outskirts of town, then turned it back again and headed home.

He went back to the study, but his mind couldn't catch on anything. Until he found himself looking down at the mill ledgers. Every column ending in the negative, because Ashley had no head for money - not like Scarlett, who would always have to cover for him. As he paged the ledger, he pictured their heads - one silvery blonde, one dark, bent over these books, and bitter bile rose in his throat. As long as she had the right - as long as Ashley needed her intervention to succeed - she would be lost to him. There was something, these last nights; something tentative and perhaps it was just comfort and care. But he would never know if she recovered and went back to spending her days at the mill, head to head with her golden boy, giving him the pieces of her heart one at a time.

Rhett was done with it. He had almost lost her, completely and irrevocably, on the stairs. He felt keenly his own guilt, but beyond that it all came back to Ashley. A golden ghost standing between them for as long as Rhett had known Scarlett. The hot knife of jealousy in his gut on that afternoon over three months ago, and that mad - beautiful - night hoping to drive Ashley from her mind with his own body. Like a coward, not staying around to see if it had even worked.

But he had come back, and Scarlett was alive and growing strong again, and now he meant to keep his wife. To finally win her. He would campaign for her heart, the heart he saw now - something deeper than a love of baubles and her own reflection. He saw her cheek to cheek between Bonnie and Ella, her eyes brimming with tears above Wade's timid hug.

Rhett Butler was no gentleman, honor bound to fight fair. He would cut as many of the threads that pulled Scarlett back to Ashley as he could. The honorable Mr. Wilkes surely knew he was earning his living only through the grace of Scarlett; pulling his mill through week to week because of her keen brain for money. Rhett smiled sardonically, the corners of his mouth drooping. Why he was almost doing Mr. Wilkes a favor, releasing him from behind Scarlett's skirts. His eyes danced with merriment, though; the knife to cut the apron strings would be paid for with Butler money. Ill-gotten gains. Though Ashley would never know the price extracted from his pride, it made Rhett's eyes gleam with malicious merriment.

Rhett Butler would have done with Ashley Wilkes.

...

Scarlett was a shadow on the sun-drenched bed linens. A catalog lay open but ignored in her lap, her blank face turned to the window. As she turned to him, he saw something flash across her face. It was a bright day, that was all. As he pulled up his chair, she was once again cool and smooth. He slid a deck of cards from his pocket and quirked his lips at her.

"A game, my dear?" Scarlett's eyes sparked and she pushed herself more upright. He started dealing the full deck between them. "Beggar-My-Neighbour...isn't that just your game."

Scarlett bristled, he saw her jaw jut, and she yanked her stack of cards up, holding them face-down in her palm. She flipped her card and flung it down on the coverlet between them. Rhett chuckled and they threw cards down until Scarlett flipped a King and her eyes gleamed triumphantly. He turned over three cards and lost the stack.

They played fast and furious, flipping cards into a messy pile on the bed. Trading penalties back and forth, they both relaxed as they sank into the game.

"Ha!" Scarlett crowed when she won a long combination, drawing nearly all the cards to her side of the bed. "I'll get you now, Rhett. You can't have any decent cards left there." He grinned and his low card was covered by a Queen from Scarlett's hand. He played his last two cards, neither one a court. Scarlett glowed and showered the deck down on the bed.

"I win," she smirked.

"My lady, you always do."

She looked at him from under drawn lashes, and shrugged. "Another hand? Deal again." Together they scooped the cards up, each forming their own neat stack. When he took her stack to fold it into the deck, their fingers brushed.

They played a few cards in silence again, after the deal. He played the first court card, an Ace; but her penalty ended on a Queen and the stack eventually went in her favor. She laughed as she collected the cards. "You just don't have any luck today, Captain Butler. It's about time!"

He lifted his eyebrows at her as he played another card. "Scarlett, you're a sore winner. What do you mean by that?"

She tossed her head, carefully. "You -always- win. I'm sure I've never seen you lose a game, or a bet. Or an argument; and that's what's unfair, Rhett. I never get to win."

He stiffened. Always? He did prefer not to even enter the game, if he didn't think he could win. He could think of things he hadn't won - though he did think it was time to reenter the fray for one particular prize. He thought about the mills again, distracted as they took turns playing cards. He played a Jack, and didn't even notice when Scarlett lost the penalty, covering her forfeit with another card.

"Pay attention, Rhett," she said a bit snappishly, "that's your stack. You don't have to sit here and entertain me if you'd rather not. I - I can entertain myself, of course."

"Sorry, Scarlett. No, I'm here. I want to stay here." He cleared his throat as he gathered the stack, leaving his prematurely played card behind. His own words left his throat feeling thick and a cough did nothing to clear it out.

"Thank you," Scarlett said quietly as she laid her own card down.

"Whatever for..." he murmured thickly as the game continued. Scarlett played her card, then arrested his next move with her hand on the back of his before he could withdraw.

"For keeping me company, today at least, Rhett." He grimaced and slid his hand out of her grasp.

"I deserve that." They continued to swap turns with the cards, looking at the game instead of each other. "I suppose...well, Scarlett. It's hard, to stay in here with you," He heard her sharply indrawn breath, "knowing I'm the one who put you here." His fingers jerked involuntarily, crumpling the next card in his hand. He smoothed it down on the pile - an Ace - but Scarlett turned the forfeit with a King and they took their turns in silence again until she won the stack on her own Jack.

It seemed they'd both stay away from that fact, as Scarlett replied, "I'm just bored. I'm tired - I sleep all night and all day and I'm still tired, and more than that, I'm just tired of hurting." Her words were exceptionally forceful.

"I want to go away, Rhett. I miss Tara."

He played a card. "Of course, my pet. You'll grow stronger there - in the fresh air." Dealing three penalty cards on top of her King, and forfeiting, he said, "This house is suffocating."

Scarlett gathered the cards to her chest. "Rhett," she said softly, then with more force. "I want to bring the children. I miss Bonnie. You hardly brought her home and now-"

"The country will do them all some good." And this was hard for him to say, but he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and rushed on. "I think Bonnie will love Tara. She's - she's so much like you, Scarlett. She'll love running wild out there." Her eyes were shining as he reached over to squeeze her hand. He kissed her forehead to hide his face. Letting Bonnie drift back towards her mother - towards something like middle ground in his secret war for their daughter's affection - was uncomfortable. It made him realize how much he used his own daughter, his beloved, as a pawn, and that disgusted him.

Scarlett won the second game and fell back against her pillows with a sigh and a happy smile.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Rhett woke with her head on his chest. He'd grown used to this again - the weight over his heart, peeling clinging hair from his cheek. If this was only comfort - if she turned him out, again, in another week or another month –. He worried about letting her hide herself away at Tara now, but he had ever lived to make her happy. And, unscrupulous as ever, the promise of a stay at Tara - with all her children, including Bonnie – would be credit on his side for the conversation he intended to have about the mills.

After breakfast, he pressed a dry kiss to her forehead. "Good day, Scarlett," he murmured. "I'll be back for dinner. I'll bring the children."

He rode to the Wilkeses' early, with Pork at the reins of the carriage. At the door, he tipped his hat to Melanie. Wade and Bonnie rushed the door to greet him and he scooped Bonnie up in his arms with a loud, smacking kiss, and ruffled Wade's hair before draping an arm across his small shoulders.

"Miss Melly, Scarlett and I can't thank you enough for looking after our brood of ragamuffins," he said, squeezing Wade and tickling Bonnie's cheek with his mustache. "We think it's time they come home now." The noisy outburst from Wade and Bonnie finally drew Ella over, with Beau on her heels.

"Really, Daddy!" pealed Bonnie, tugging at his shoulders. Wade looked up with earnest eyes, "Is mother better now, Uncle Rhett?"

Rhett's smile took in all three children, as well as Melly and Beau. "Yes, your mother is feeling much better." Tightening his arm on Bonnie, Rhett squatted down to Wade and motioned Ella closer. "Now, your mother is still very tired, and we need to help her be strong again. Wade," Rhett locked eyes with the boy, "you'll help take care of your mother, won't you? And Ella, Bonnie -" he looked at each of them in turn, "you'll need to share, and play together nicely, and not keep her awake with any fights." Three little heads nodded solemnly.

Melanie clapped her hands together. "Oh, Captain Butler, why what wonderful news. Come, children - let's gather your things." Rhett set Bonnie down and Melanie shooed all three children out of the parlor before turning to Rhett. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"How is Scarlett?"

Rhett felt his face stretch almost unnaturally, his relieved, happy smile was so wide. "She's well enough to be bored, though she's not up to much. She'll be taking the children to Tara. She'll get more strength from that red earth than she will cooped up in the house."

"Tara means ever so much to her. You're right, of course, Captain Butler. Is there ever any place as dear as our childhood home?"

The corner of Rhett's mouth quirked, and he gave her a slight bow she could take as agreement if she wished. With a broad smile, Melly left in a swirl of skirts to help the children gather their belongings that had accumulated in the little house on Ivy Street as their stay extended day after day. When Rhett lifted them each up in to the carriage in turn, they squirmed like puppies.

When the carriage stopped on Peachtree Street, Rhett shushed them all to silence. "Now, remember. Mother is feeling better, but she's still very tired. We'll all go up and eat dinner with her together. You must use your very best manners, and not scream or fight. Wade, I know you can be a gentleman, and Ella and Bonnie will be the most charming little ladies. Won't we? Do you promise - Wade? Ella? Bonnie?"

After each child had made their solemn promise, Rhett climbed down from the carriage and swung the children out one at a time. The little mob was calm and decorous as they climbed the stairs to Scarlett's bedroom. When he opened her door, they hung back, unsure and clustered against his legs, and he pushed them through one at a time. Scarlett had already dressed in an older wrapper, and was sitting back against her pillows.

Dinner had already been set at the small table, and extra chairs brought up to fit the whole family. Still silent, each child pressed a dutiful kiss to Scarlett's cheek, and then Bonnie burst.

"Mama!" she exclaimed, lifting her arms to Scarlett. Scarlett leaned low along the mattress top to wrap Bonnie in a hug.

"Places!" Rhett interjected gaily. Ella and Wade rushed to the small table, but Rhett had to reach down and disentangle Bonnie. The little girl walked backwards until she bumped the edge of a chair, her eyes never leaving her mother. Rhett bent low over Scarlett and scooped her up against his chest.

"Rhett!" she laughed, shoving weakly at his chest. "I can stand - well I can at least make it to the table. You're being a fool."

"A fool for you, darling," he murmured boldly into her hair before lowering her gently into a chair.

The tenor of the meal amped up quickly as the children lost their fearful reticence. They weren't quite the model of decorum he had asked for, but Scarlett was laughing with them and flushed with healthy color. When they'd finished, he sent them all off to the nursery, then faced Scarlett across the table. She was shredding a biscuit into crumbs, her eyes on the open door.

He reached across the table and covered her nervous fingers with his large, brown hand. "Scarlett." His thumb stroked her knuckles softly, and he leaned forward, locking eyes on her. "You've done very well for yourself, with the store, and your mills. Do you remember, when I told you I was proud of having a smart wife?"

Scarlett nodded, her brow creasing. "I still am," he kissed the knuckle of her forefinger, then released her hand and sat back. "I think you should sell the mills to Ashley. Sell him your mill, and the part interest you have in his."

Scarlett's eyes went wide. "Sell? Where would Ashley get the money? You know they never have a cent."

"I'll give it to him."

Scarlett laughed from her belly. "Rhett! You know he'd never take your money. And Melanie! Melly would die of embarassment."

"Let me worry about that, Scarlett. I'll handle it. If you'll sell."

Her green eyes dropped away from his, and she appeared to be intently studying the pattern of biscuit crumbs she'd shredded onto her plate. He bit his tongue as long as he can. He knew he was asking a lot of her, and not just as a test of her feelings towards Ashley. She had put years of hard work into those mills, reaching desperately to feel financially secure. Did she feel secure, with him? Would she close that path to Ashley? He was staring at her so fiercely his own eyes were burning for not blinking.

"Rhett, I -" Scarlett stopped. His hands were clenched into fists on top of his thighs. Every muscle was tight. Rhett willed her to look up again, he needed to see her eyes. To see through that thick skull and end this tension. "I worked so hard for them..."

The tension left him so abruptly he felt hollow. With a nonchalant shrug, Rhett drawled, "I knew you wouldn't want to. You can't bear not to have your finger in everybody's pie. If you sold out to Ashley, then you wouldn't be able to tell him how to mind his own business." The tenor of his voice became more biting with each word.

"That's not it, Rhett. You don't understand - "

"Don't I?"

Scowling fiercely, Scarlett raised her flashing eyes to his. This wasn't going well - he should be soothing her, winning her over to this plan. He saw her lips part as if to reply, but it was stifled by his sudden movement, shoving his chair back from the table. Rhett scooped her into his arms none too gently and sat back down in her chair. Scarlett cried out and he held her tight to his chest, lightly drawing a soothing hand down her back. "I'm sorry, Scarlett. But listen, my baby, I don't want to take away all you've done. I know. I know! I don't have the pure motives of a gentleman, but I am trying to think of you, my dear. And - the store can be Wade's, some day." He supposed that, rightfully, it should be Ella's; but so far she'd shown no promise like her mother's sharp mind. "I'm thinking of you - and Wade. And the children." And me, he didn't say. And us. "You have more than enough work with the store. You're making more than enough money -"

"Rhett," Scarlett sobbed suddenly. "It's not enough money. Not yet. Wade, Ella - Bonnie - you don't understand! You've always had enough - _you_ never went hungry during the war - you don't know what it was like at Tara. I worked my fingers to the bone, Rhett. I don't want that for my children. I need to know their future is safe - that they will always, always have enough."

"Scarlett, they're my children, too. Wade and Ella are as good as, anyway. I won't let them go hungry. They - and you, darling, and you - have enough now. You will always have enough."

She twisted in his arms and raised her shining eyes to his. "Do you promise? Swear it." She said fiercely, clutching his shoulders.

"I swear, Scarlett. Keep the store for your own sense of security, but I swear - you will always have enough."

Scarlett stared at him for a long while, a strange light in her eyes. It seemed familiar, somehow, though he was sure he'd never seen her look like that before. Finally, she nodded, and relaxed back against his chest.

"And the mills, Scarlett?" he whispered.

"Let me think about it, Rhett. Please." Rhett tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss into her thick hair.


	6. Chapter 6

Scarlett was still pale and thin when Rhett put her on the Jonesboro train three weeks later. But there was a faint bloom of roses in her cheeks, and her eyes were bright. She held Bonnie's hand tightly, and clutched her bonnet to her head against a strong breeze with the other hand. Wade's and Ella's hands were tightly laced, swinging between them. They pressed close to their mother and stepfather as they made their way through the crowded platform to the idling car. Rhett handed Bonnie up to Prissy and shooed the children on the train, where they leaned out of an open window waving gaily - at Rhett, and then at anybody who would wave back.

Rhett leaned over Scarlett. "I'm going to miss you, Mrs. Butler," he murmured. Scarlett blushed. They were in a comfortably awkward place, together. It had a certain amount of intimacy - he still came to her bed every night. He would put the children to bed, turn Bonnie's light low, and sit with their daughter until she slept, before joining Scarlett. He walked with Scarlett through the yard, her small hand over his arm, watching the roses blooming in her cheeks again, daily. He forgot himself and mocked her gentility; though he never forgot himself so much as to make fun of her awkward attempts to be close and caring with the children. Their days went up and down - warm and relaxed; stilted and bitter; sometimes angry, tossing biting words back and forth. The latter happened less frequently when he stopped pushing for an answer on the mills.

The children were yelling gaily, leaning far out the window - Rhett could hear Prissy fretting at them, warning them all they'd fall out and "I ain' gonna hep you then, Miss Ella, you'll be sittin' here in 'Lanta at the train station while we all ride on without you - " but they were too boosted up by the riotous atmosphere of the bustling depot, their young confidence soothed these past few weeks by the generally warm atmosphere at home. The train whistle blew and Rhett lifted Scarlett up to the first step. Not relinquishing his grip on her waist, he turned her slowly to face him. He heard the children's cheers turn to groans as he kissed her deeply, full on the lips for the first time in months. His thumbs glided along her ribs as he pulled her close to him. He felt her gloved hands curling along his jaw. Desire unfurled slowly in his veins and his muscles tensed, resisting the urge to drag her close.

When the whistle blew again he stepped back and gave a jaunty bow. Scarlett stared at him, her face red from chin to hair, as the train started moving and Prissy came to urge her into the compartment.

…

After putting Scarlett on the train, Rhett let Pork drive him back to Peachtree Street. He rifled idly, with no real interest, through the day's correspondence. He poured himself a finger of whiskey and watched the sun through his window, moving slowly high across the bright blue sky.

He ate his meal alone, and the shining dinner table seemed vast and endless before him, with no family to keep him company. No heels drumming on the chair legs, the legs too short to reach the floor. No laughter, no childish conversation almost unintelligible for the interruptions, talking over each other.

No Scarlett, with lately unreadable green glass eyes. Enigmatic and imperturbable Scarlett, edgy and easily riled Scarlett, dreamy and vacant Scarlett with her heart and mind elsewhere - who would she be when she returned from Tara?

Once dark fell, Rhett rode to Belle's house and tied the horse up around the back.

"I might not be around for a while," he told Belle, swirling whiskey in his glass and watching the shifting glint of the gaslight in it.

"Well, you haven't been around for months any way. You goin' away again?" Belle took a sip of her own whiskey and her throat convulsed more than necessary. "I heard Scarlett left town..."

"No, Belle, I'm staying around. I've got some business to take care of before Scarlett comes home."

He felt the heat of Belle's gaze and keeps his eyes on the whiskey.

"You fall in that hole again, huh? Well God help you, honey. Someday you're not gonna be able to crawl back out."

Rhett drained his glass with one practiced toss. "I know," he murmured against her false red hair on his way out.

…

_At Tara, Scarlett walked the old paths and fields. She moved a little farther, a little more freely every day. The aches faded from her bones in the warm sunlight, but her heart was tight in her chest.  
_

_Scarlett remembered Ashley everywhere she went. They rode across this country and sat on these steps; Ashley worked this land by her side, after Atlanta fell - after he found his way back home. To Melanie - to her.  
_

_Rhett had not set foot at Tara, but more so than the - pale, insubstantial memory of Ashley Wilkes, she felt Rhett Butler's vital presence everywhere. She heard his mocking voice in her ear when Suellen riled her over the dinner table. She could see his eyes glowing with pride as she walked the fields she had worked in, not so many years ago. She kissed her children goodnight and turned Bonnie's lamp down low, and felt Rhett's arms around her as she sat with their daughter until Bonnie fell asleep.  
_

_And then, alone in her bed - when for a month, now, her husband had been back where he belonged - Scarlett missed him desperately. She thought of that last embrace with Ashley, warm with the comfort of friendship and history. And the last month in Rhett's arms, a roiling welter of hot emotions stirred up by his chaste touch. Her love for Ashley was wrapped up in their shared past - but it's in the past, all of it. It maybe has been past and gone for years._

Rhett, she thought, as she turned her head to the sliver of moon in her open window, Rhett was the future.

In the afternoon Scarlett sat on the veranda at Tara and watched her children run through the yard with Suellen's girls. Their children got along better than they ever had. Scarlett was as brutal with herself now as she ever was as Ellen's daughter, curbing her spirit to the confines of a proper lady; trying now to remake herself in a more motherly fashion. Wade, Ella, and Bonnie circled around. Their pockets and small, grass- and dirt-stained hands were overflowing with country treasures they piled in her lap, excitedly talking over each other to tell her the story behind each grubby item.

The children lined their hoard up on top of the porch rail, then Scarlett was racing Wade and Ella under the shadows of the old cedars lining the front drive. She realized she didn't have to be a mother like Ellen, like Melanie. Scarlett remembered Mrs. Tarleton with her daughters, and thought there was more than one way to be a mother.

Bonnie was waving her arms where the drive met the road, standing on the stump, and Scarlett laughed gaily as she swung her around and then tumbled down in the grass with Wade and Ella, too. They sat together, leaning against the stump, until the sun was hidden by the tree tops before they walked back to the house. Together.

But, Scarlett thought, not whole, not complete. Not yet.

…

Scarlett's telegram arrived in Atlanta a week after he had put her on the Jonesboro train.

_I'll sell._

…

Rhett left immediately for Melanie's house. From her porch, Melanie rose to meet him. He joined her for a while in companionable silence, as she went back to her darning.

"Miss Melly, I've come to ask a very great favor of you and," he said broadly, "to enlist your aid in a deception from which I know you will shrink."

"A— deception?"

"Yes. Really, I've come to talk business to you."

"Oh, dear. Then it's Mr. Wilkes you'd better see. I'm such a goose about business. I'm not smart like Scarlett."

"I'm afraid Scarlett is too smart for her own good," he said, "and that is exactly what I want to talk to you about. You know how — ill she's been. When she gets back from Tara she will start again hammer and tongs with the store and those mills which I wish devoutly would explode some night. I fear for her health, Miss Melly." Rhett spoke this with the fervor of truth, and he closed his eyes briefly but saw only Scarlett behind the lids. Scarlett crumpled at the foot of the stairs; Scarlett's dark hair on the pillow with her fragile, broken body barely a ripple in her wide bed.

"And now, I come to the business matter. I know Scarlett would sell the remainder of her interest in the mills to Mr. Wilkes but to no one else, and I want Mr. Wilkes to buy her out." Rhett would enact any scheme, use any deception to make this happen, and he bent all his charm to winning Melanie's assistance. Even that wouldn't have been enough, until he mentioned Beau. Then with Melanie's reluctant assistance, he made a plan to send the money to the Wilkeses, and secured her cooperation in pressing Ashley to purchase the mills.

Melanie said: "Scarlett's lucky to have a husband who's so nice to her!"

"She is even luckier to have such a friend as you."

…

_I lifted almost all of Rhett and Melanie's dialogue from MM; it just really is the same scenario as in the book – although I think Rhett's motivations have a layer here that they did not in GWTW._


	7. Chapter 7

Rhett was waiting on the platform by 1:30, lounging on a hard wooden bench with a deceptively relaxed pose. His nerves thrummed and tension clutched at him. He left a stack of unanswered correspondence on his desk, unable to concentrate. The feeling recalled his years-long sideways courtship of Scarlett, and the energy that had rushed through him as trains, carriages, and horses brought him back to Atlanta. He had never been able to stay away.

Today the train would bring his family home. He checked his pocket watch. Well, maybe not for twenty minutes. He tipped his hat low and watched boisterous children, heartfelt reunions, and tearstained leave-takings from under the brim. His own heart was tight, barely beating.

Finally the Macon &amp; Western pulled up to the platform. The children stumbled over each other like rambunctious puppies. Wade's face was tanned almost as dark as Rhett's own, and Ella had a smattering of freckles on her nose. Bonnie tugged at his trouser legs.

"Daddy! Daddy!" But for the first time, Rhett ignored his daughter. This felt important, holding out a hand to help Scarlett down the last step to the platform. He pressed a kiss to her hand and murmured his welcome - paid her due attention before turning to their rabble. She raised her head almost shyly. He was heartened to see the healthy flush in her cheeks - and then squinted at her. Did she have faint freckles across the bridge of her nose? Tara had been good for everyone.

With a grin he finally turned and whirled Bonnie up in his arms. "Bonnie Blue! I thought you would forget your old papa." Bonnie laughed and peppered his face with kisses. Holding her in one arm he pulled Ella close, then Wade.

On the way home the children talked over each other. Bonnie couldn't wait to tattle on Ella for biting her cousin Susie; Wade glowed with pride to recount how he killed a water moccasin all by himself. Scarlett reclined on the seat opposite him, a fond look in her eyes as she stroked Ella's curls and listened. Her eyes moved across the children but she avoided Rhett's eyes; when he caught her gaze for a moment she ducked her head, the flush in her cheeks deepening - embarrassed?

At home, they sent the children up with Prissy and Mammy for baths and clean clothes and sat together on the front porch. After a brief lull, punctuated by the creak of her rocking chair, Scarlett's busy chatter rushed in to fill the silence with the news from the County. Rhett let her run until it seemed her gossip was exhausted, and she turned her mind back to home.

"Has anything happened here?"

"Everything has been quite dull, without you." A pause, to watch her face. "And without the children. I took care of the new shingles for the store and I got a good trade on the mules."

Then, casually, trying to project a deceptive lack of interest in the whole affair, he added: "The honorable Ashley was over here last night. He wanted to know if I thought you would sell him your mill and the part interest you have in his."

Scarlett abruptly stopped rocking.

"Where on earth did Ashley get the money?" she asked quietly.

Rhett shrugged. "It seems it was sent him by someone he nursed through a case of smallpox at Rock Island. It renews my faith in human nature to know that gratitude still exists." But his leisurely grin was mocking, and he could see her feathers ruffle.

"He wants to buy me out?"

"Yes. You haven't changed your mind?"

Scarlett shook her head. "No, I haven't changed my mind."

Rhett looked down to hide the gleam of triumph that must show in his face. When he lifted his head, Scarlett looked small and alone in the large wooden rocker. Rhett stood, but there was something brittle about her that stayed his hand.

"You won't regret it, my dear," he said fervently before turning into the house.

That night Scarlett sold the mills and all her interest in them to Ashley. She did not lose thereby for Ashley refused to take advantage of her first low offer and met the highest bid that she had ever had for them. Rhett schooled his features to blandness. Poor manager that he was, Ashley would have been much better off to buy low. The extra money might have carried him along a bit longer. The constraints of being a gentleman! When she had signed the papers and the mills were irrevocably gone, Rhett took the small glass of wine Melanie handed him and raised it in a toast with the others.

Rhett studied Scarlett over the rim of his glass. The mills were dear to her - almost as dear as Ashley. He was surprised she had actually gone through with this, and he studied her, trying to decipher her feelings now. Part of his plan would succeed - without part ownership of Ashley's mill, she would have no reason to drive there every day. He had successfully driven that wedge, at least; but had he unintentionally driven another? Would she resent him? This had been his idea.

Scarlett's eyes caught his and Rhett felt uncomfortably revealed. There were moments, like now, when a veil seemed to drop away between them and he was sure and afraid that his face was giving too much away. A lot had passed between them these last few months, but he didn't want to give her any more ammunition than she might already have accumulated.

"I suppose you'll turn the convicts back right away," he said to Ashley, with the instincts of an animal striking first before the predatory vixen could draw blood.

"Have you lost your mind?" Scarlett cried, turning to them from Melanie. "You'll lose all the money on the lease and what kind of labor can you get, anyway?"

"I'll use free darkies," said Ashley. "I won't work convicts, Scarlett."

"And why not? Are you afraid people will talk about you like they do about me?"

"I'm not afraid of what people say as long as I'm right. And I have never felt that convict labor was right."

"But why —"

"The system is open to too many abuses. Perhaps you don't know it but I do. I know very well that Johnnie Gallegher has killed at least one man at his camp. Maybe more — who cares about one convict, more or less? He said the man was killed trying to escape, but that's not what I've heard elsewhere. And I know he works men who are too sick to work. Call it superstition, but I do not believe that happiness can come from money made from the sufferings of others."

"Then, you must think all my money is tainted," cried Scarlett.

"Scarlett, don't think I'm criticizing you! I'm not. It's just that we look at things in different ways and what is good for you might not be good for me."

Rhett watched her closely, camouflaging his interest with a cool, amused grin. Scarlett's nose was up and Gerald's jaw stuck out in her stubborn, lovely face.

"You must remember that winter at Tara when it was so cold and we were cutting up the carpets for shoes and there wasn't enough to eat and we used to wonder how we were going to give Beau and Wade an education. You know how things were before I made my money! Money from the mills —"

"I remember," said Ashley tiredly, "but I'd rather forget."

"Well, you can't say any of us were happy then, can you? And look at us now! You've a nice home and a good future. And has anyone a prettier house than mine or nicer clothes or finer horses? Nobody sets as fine a table as me or gives nicer receptions and my children have everything —"

"And the money has made you very, very happy, hasn't it, darling?" Rhett asked quietly.

Scarlett stopped short, her mouth open, and her eyes went swiftly to Rhett's. "I'm sure it's your own business, Ashley, and far be it from me to tell you how to run it," she said, evading Rhett's question and turning away from him.

…

When Rhett shut the door behind the Wilkeses later that night, he heard her slippered feet rustling up the stairs before the latch had even clicked. He hitched a shoulder against the front door, the sound of Scarlett's door closing echoing loud in the empty house. She had accepted the sale with seeming equanimity, had risen predictably to his prodding on the convicts. Had, apparently, shut him out again. He had made sure of it.

Hadn't he resolved otherwise, in that glowing convalescent period before she went to Tara?

He looked in on the children, checking Bonnie's light. She had become used to sleeping in the nursery with her half-siblings while at Tara, as long as her light burned all night; and Wade and Ella had become used to the soft glow. When Scarlett had shut him out, Bonnie had still wanted and needed him. Now both his daughter and his wife were snug in their own, separate rooms.

…

_And again – I lifted quite a lot from MM. I tried to trim it down – I really could have pulled the whole thing, not only do I still like the fit of the dialogue but I like the twist of the same words being said but a different emotional undercurrent through the scene. But that would just be lazy – although I think it took almost as much time to trim and repurpose it as to write from scratch._


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: The rating definitely has to change for this chapter – but you can probably skip this without too much trouble with the overall flow. Or read only to the first ellipsis._

_…_

Fall began in an awkward standoff. The warmth and closeness that had been developing between them did not come back after the mills had been sold away; but the stress, tension, and coldness that had marked their life before Scarlett's miscarriage did not come back, either. Scarlett went to the store every day, Rhett returned to his desk at the bank. They dined together as a family, spent afternoons with the children - together. If Scarlett wanted to renew some of her old acquaintances, host whist evenings again, she never said. They took the children on walks every day, Ella skipping gaily ahead, Bonnie swinging from their hands, and Wade alongside trying to imitate Rhett's erect posture.

Melanie called almost every day. One day, he heard Scarlett, in a halting voice, inquire after the health of Maybelle Picard. He was shocked to open the door the next day and find Maybelle, with a cool, closed expression, standing behind Melanie. Slowly, Scarlett stuck her toe on that path to respectability which Rhett had blazed and bought for Bonnie. He never saw anyone come calling without Melanie leading the way, but Scarlett didn't seem to mind. Whatever her motivations, a full return to respectable society did not seem to be her intent.

As far as Rhett knew, Scarlett hadn't seen Ashley since the day she sold him the mills.

At night, kissing the children goodnight, they lingered over the dinner table with brandy and coffee. Scarlett's laughter filled the room and warmed his heart as he mocked the gossiping biddies they passed on the street, who cooed over Bonnie and admired Wade and whispered behind their hands after the Butlers passed. He had no more respect for them than he'd ever had; and it helped release the tension of his unrelenting campaign for his daughter to be able to laugh about it now, with his wife.

Every night, he kissed her hand outside her bedroom door, and put it down to imagination if she seemed to linger, the click of her latch coming slow and late, after he turned away.

Rhett courted his wife, as he had done in those long-ago blockade running days, bringing a gift home every week. A new bonnet, a necklace, a hair comb. He was not, he told himself, trying to buy her again. He was just trying to - show her, something.

For Ella's birthday in October, they took the children to a lancing tournament on fields outside of town. The festivities had drawn crowds from miles around. The children were awed by the spectacle, 30 knights on horseback with lances on parade! They picnicked on the lawn and watched the jousting. Ella hid her eyes against Scarlett, but Rhett had to restrain Bonnie from running into the Ring to see the horses. Wade watched with wide, worshipful eyes.

After the tournament, the children ran off to meet the knights and Scarlett reached across the blanket for his hand.

…

Later that night, they carried their sleeping children into the house. Bonnie's head was on Scarlett's shoulder, Wade and Ella in his arms. With a shake of his head, he turned Mammy away and they went up to the nursery alone. After he changed Wade into pajamas and lit the lamp for Bonnie, he waited for Scarlett in the doorway while she finished tucking in Bonnie and Ella. She slipped her arm through his. At her door, he raised her hand to his lips, in now-familiar ritual. But Scarlett squeezed his fingers, and he felt her grip around his heart.

"Rhett," she whispered. Her face was lit only by the weak glow of the light from the nursery, too faint to see clearly.

Rhett reached behind her to push her bedroom door open, the movement bringing him close, looming over her. In the still air he heard her breath hitch. He held still, her small hand in his.

Scarlett took a step back, not relinquishing his hand. Slowly, Rhett followed her back into her bedroom. He closed the door behind them with his free hand. The night air felt heavy, drawing close around them as they stood, still again, in the darkness. Tension crawled over his skin and he held himself stiffly, fighting arousal as he waited to see what move Scarlett might make. Rhett wanted to see her face; without light, he strained his ears for the quietest whisper of voice or movement from his wife. As his ears pricked, he became attuned to the soft, recurrent hitch in her breath.

Scarlett squeezed his hand again, drawing it slowly downward, pulling him down. He dipped his head low, his lips hovering just above hers - he could feel the whisper of her breath, rushing quickly across his mouth. Her hand turned to cup his, and when she brought their interlocked hands around her back to place his against her waist he felt his heart would crash right out of his chest.

Moving swiftly, almost violently, he closed the infinitesimal distance between their lips. Her hand left his and both arms came up around his shoulders. Rhett thrilled to the feel of her pressing her body up to his and he pulled her closer. He brought his other hand up to her waist, kneading the stiff corset. Stepping forward, his long legs bumped against hers before she stepped back. In this awkward dance, they moved back toward the bed. Unbalanced by the contact with the mattress, Scarlett dropped, pulling her mouth from his. When she sat down, Rhett dropped to his knees before her. As he pressed his head into her lap for a moment, he thought could feel the heat of her even through her heavy skirts and he inhaled deeply, drawing her scent in as arousal heated his blood.

Rhett was surprised to feel his hands trembling as he undid the buttons down the front of her basque. In the dark, he kept his eyes on his hands, straining to see the small loops. He pushed the bodice gently off Scarlett's shoulders, and rose and took her into his arms again, kissing her boldly. He dipped his tongue, teasingly, in the corners of her mouth, and relished the feel of her shivering response.

He was losing patience. Abruptly, he spun her around, fumbling with the fastenings of her heavy skirt and letting it drop to the floor. Heedless of the fine fabric, Rhett moved close again, crushing her bustle between them as he reached around for the ties. He rained open-mouthed kisses down along her neck as he undid the bustle and then her corset cover, before groping for the laces of her corset. Scarlett's head dropped forward and he nipped, lightly, at her nape, before stepping back to unlace her. The corset dropped, too, as she unhooked the busk. He slid his arms around her waist, now with only her thin shift under his arms. He spread one hand wide across her stomach and pulled her back against, pressing his arousal to her as his lips found her ear.

"Scarlett," he whispered, and kissed her neck again to cut off any more words. Words he was not ready to share with her, not yet. He could feel her belly quiver under his palm. Slowly, she turned in his arms.

Although Rhett's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he couldn't decipher the details of Scarlett's expression. He kissed her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, the landmarks of her face he could make out, but his lips were unable to translate her thoughts or feelings. Stepping again on the expensive clothing underfoot, he moved her back against the bed, pressing kisses along her jaw as her hands clutched at his shoulders. Rhett grasped her waist and lifted her up on the bed. He licked the underside of her chin as he undid her drawers. Sliding them down her legs, he turned away and sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

Bending down to pull off his shoes, Rhett felt Scarlett press against his back. She reached up from around his waist, beginning to undo his jacket buttons. Clad now as she was, only in the thin shift, he could feel each warm, round breast distinctly on his back and stopped to catch his breath. _Months…_

Rhett loosened his cravat and joined her hands in unbuttoning his jacket. Scarlett's small hands slid back and up over his shoulders and tugged the cravat all the way free. He grabbed her hands, pressed a kiss to each set of knuckles, before standing and hurriedly divesting himself of the rest of his clothing. When he turned back to her, naked and aroused, feeling every muscle straining with tension and every hair standing up, electrified, he wished again for enough light to see her clearly.

Scarlett's white hands stood out in the darkness as they reached for him. Gently, the sight of her broken body crashing through his mind afresh, he pressed her back into the bed. He loosened the ribbon at the top of her shift, kissing along the rise of her collarbone. Her breath panted hotly across his hairline.

Rhett pressed his palms along her thighs and slid them upwards, taking the shift with. Clenching the fabric at her waist, he lifted his head from her. His eyes strained in the darkness. The flush on her cheeks showed darkly against pale skin. What light seeped in around the window curtains glinted madly in her eyes. He held her for a long moment, their legs entwined, just the tops of her thighs naked against his own.

Suddenly, Scarlett arched, pressing her hips up to his. Rhett groaned and, finally, kissed her deeply. His tongue delved, and his nerves thrilled at her response, as her hips shifted again and her tongue pressed back against his. One hand released her shift and he threaded his fingers in her hair, feeling the prick of pins against his skin as her coiffure fell apart.

The other hand, wrapped in her shift, pushed it up, slowly. He held his body close over hers, reveling in every hot inch of bare skin that was freed to press against his own. When he felt her breasts slide free against his chest, he pulled back from their kiss.

Dropping his head, Rhett kissed the top of each breast softly, then pulled the shift the rest of the way free and tossed it away. Scarlett's hands danced, lightly - even hesitantly - along his shoulders and head, fingers pushing tentatively into his hair, as he lowered his mouth to one nipple. It was already hard when he kissed it. Scarlett's hands tugged once, painfully, in his hair, when he sucked her nipple into his mouth. He brought one hand up to cup her other breast, and smoothed his other hand down along her side, under her waist to press in the small of her back. He suckled, gently at first, his tongue swirling around the hard bud; then more forcefully, encouraged by the pressure of her hands behind his head. He nipped lightly at the underside of her breast before moving his mouth to her other nipple, lavishing it with the same attention while his hands moved to grip her hips.

Her hands still in his hair, Scarlett tugged him back to her mouth. "Rhett," and his name was a sigh of hot breath through his lips. He pressed her down into the mattress, his erection hard along her thigh. His tongue plundered her mouth, his teeth nipped her lips. Scarlett tossed her head beneath him, and when her tongue slipped into his own mouth, his hands on her hips tightened forcefully. She didn't pull away, but arched against him.

Rhett pulled back suddenly, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Her responsive passion threatened to overwhelm him. He strove, in vain, to regain some of the detachment he had always kept between them. He felt grateful for the darkness now; while it hid Scarlett's face from him, it also hid his own. He felt sure his heart was writ too plainly, even for Scarlett's obtuse gaze.

Gently, Scarlett moved her hands along his shoulders. Her legs slipped, opening slightly to him. As Rhett let his thigh slide down, pressing her thighs apart, he could feel the wetness between her legs laving him. Whatever distance he had thought he wanted, he gave it up at this unmistakable proof of Scarlett's desire.

He kissed her collarbone, her neck, her jaw. He pressed one broad hand along her ribs and slid the other, slowly, teasing, downward. As she let her legs fall away, he cupped her, grinding the heel of his hand against her mound. Scarlett's timid hands clutched at him now, the round little nails pressing into his shoulders. He pulled his hand back until he could tease her, gently, with one fingertip.

"Rhett," she moaned again, and this time he pressed his hot mouth under her ear and whispered back.

"Scarlett. Scarlett. You are so lovely. My sweet, my beautiful Scarlett..." Rhett nipped her neck and swirled his finger, pressing against her bud. He flicked it gently while he kneaded with his other hand, first her waist, then up to her breasts again. He rolled a nipple between his fingers while he pressed his finger against her.

Scarlett began to writhe, her hips rolling, and he dragged his other hand down to hold her still. He trailed his mouth along her jaw and then kissed her deeply, his tongue plundering her mouth at the same time as he slipped a finger into her. She arched against his palm and he dragged his thumb roughly across her, while his tongue and finger thrust in sinuous unison. Her head dropped back, away from his mouth, and as her whole body began to tense up he slid his body over her and entered her. He kept his hand between their bodies, his thumb still circling her while she tensed and shattered around him.

With a groan, he braced his hands along her shoulders, and began to thrust. He licked Scarlett's neck, her chest, then slid one arm beneath her back and, tracing down the length of her body, wrapped his other hand around her thigh and brought it up along his hip. He wanted to move slowly, to savor this, something deep inside him still afraid she would regret this and shut him out again in the morning.

His body surrounding her and filling her, Rhett pulled his head back so he could see her face. He watched her bite her lip as he thrust, her forehead wrinkle as he pulled back. He looked for signs of dreamy disengagement, but in the darkness - he couldn't tell.

Then Scarlett moaned, and arched, and her leg tightened along his hip, drawing him down. When she said his name again, and her small hands drew his face back down to hers, he abandoned caution and moved, hard, finding a relentless pace. He released her leg and she kept it pressed against him, and he reached between them again to stroke her, matching his hand and his cock in rhythm until he felt her shiver and tighten around him again, and with a hoarse cry against her tender mouth he came with her.

…

In the morning light, Rhett peeled strands of black hair from his sweaty neck and fought the urge to run from her bed, again. He had left her, once before, and he knew it to be a mistake - one he couldn't make again. He tried to let the whisper of her breath across his chest relax him, tried to match her breathing and fight down the panic in his throat.

Finally, Scarlett stirred, 'hmm'ing as she stretched. He felt himself stir as her naked body pressed against him from chest to thigh. He knew her to be awake by the sudden blush in her cheeks, though she didn't open her eyes.

He felt bold and daring as he pressed kisses along her brow, down her cheek, and along her jaw. He shook his head slowly as he did so, brushing his mustache against her, until she laughed and opened her eyes. They slid shyly away from his own gaze. But her face was warm and open, and when she rested her head back against his chest he pressed a kiss into her hair.

"Good morning, Scarlett," he rumbled.

"Good morning," she whispered into his chest.

They had, until that day after Bonnie's birth, shared a bed without love before. Rhett had always wanted more than that from his wife. He stared down at her rumpled head, tense and intent, but her down turned face hid her heart, too.

That night, in the dark hallway after the children were asleep, she squeezed his hand again and pulled him close. Rhett followed her into her bedroom.

...

_A/N 2: __I have seen Ella's birthday as either October or November. I picked one._

_I'm thinking about Melanie's crusade, dragging Scarlett around the parlors of Atlanta, during the months of Rhett's absence; but he wouldn't know that so I couldn't work the comparison into the text. But the next step, is Melanie towing them to the Butler house._

_The lancing tournament: I have a book, "An Antebellum Plantation Household: Including the South Carolina Low Country Receipts and Remedies of Emily Wharton Sinkler." It has two parts, the first presents the life of the Sinklers through excerpts from Mrs. Sinkler's correspondence (the second part has the receipts [recipes] and remedies). One such excerpt recounts her experience of visiting a "splendid lancing, or jousting, tournament" one summer, in the South Carolina low country. I have also come across one other mention of such a thing through internet research – although it was such a small mention I am not even sure what bookmarks to check for the reference. So – this early sort of Renaissance Festival could have happened, although mine is in the fall._


	9. Chapter 9

Rhett Butler loved his children. Wade Hampton Hamilton was son enough for him. He had loved and cared for Scarlett all through her pregnancy with Ella, and the girl could hardly feel more like his own daughter. Bonnie Blue was his pride and joy, the light on dark days and now, happier ones. If Scarlett didn't want any more babies; if that was necessary to keep his wife's happiness, he wouldn't be turned out again. Disgust licked his gut when he thought of how easily he had given up on her, knowing full well there were other options. He had more than enough experience taking precautions with whores, to avoid the bastards some men left behind like used handkerchiefs.

She had said she had wanted that lost baby, and he wanted to be damn sure she would want any other children they might have.

It meant going back to Belle's, where he hadn't been in months. Not since Scarlett was away at Tara. But he still had unused preventatives in his rooms there; and could use connections there to get more. It took Rhett a week to work up to it; a week of nights with Scarlett that might have made it too late, already.

It had become ritual, by then. There had been no official invitation to share her bedroom permanently, but every night she pulled him close, pulled him through her door. Tonight, when Scarlett tugged at his hand, Rhett merely lifted her knuckles to his lips again.

"I have to go out, Scarlett. I won't be long."

She stared at him, her hand going limp in his. After a brisk glance to the open nursery door, she hissed, "Out? At this hour? What -" and then her face went pale. She snatched her fingers out of his grasp.

"Scarlett," he said hurriedly, soothingly. "I won't be long. I just have - to do something." He tried to reach for her hands again but she wrapped her arms behind her back.

"Go," she snapped. "See if I care."

"Scarlett, it's not what you think." His voice was becoming terse; despite himself, his patience was fraying.

"What do you care what I think? What could you possibly have to do - at night, in the dark - that you think could interest or, or bother me, at all?"

Rhett smirked and leaned sideways against her door frame. "When have I ever interested you, either, my pet?"

"You're hateful!" Scarlett hissed. She reached for her doorknob but found his hip in the way. "Move, Rhett. You're in my way."

Rhett shifted his body just enough to reveal the doorknob. As she reached for it, he bent low to whisper, "I really won't be long, Scarlett. Wait for me?" She passed close to him as she moved through the door frame and he felt her stiffen.

"I won't - I won't let you come to me after you've been at that whore's house. If that's where you're going, you can just stay there!"

Rhett stood straight and with the door frame open, she slammed the door between them. He hammered on it twice, then growled, "You won't shut me out again, Scarlett. I was a fool! Not again."

"Go away, Rhett!" she screamed.

"If this door is locked when I get home, I will break it down. I don't care if the children hear. Keep that in mind, Scarlett."

"You're a cad! I hate you!" He heard a clatter - nothing shattered, so probably her hairbrush - against the door. Then his long, angry strides were carrying him down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the house.

The cool night air did little to curb his temper as he rode to Belle's. For months, he hadn't left Scarlett's side - except for her trip to Tara, taking all their children with her - and still that counted for nothing with her. She was only too eager to believe the worst of him.

Rhett had come to Belle's like this countless times, frustrated and angry and bitter and bottled up over Scarlett. Belle had soothed his temper and his ego; provided an outlet for the lust and love that his wife scorned. Tonight she rubbed him wrong. He felt pity in her eyes - the cuckold husband, still reaching blindly for a woman who didn't want him; a little boy who gets his hand slapped but never learns a lesson. If he tried to tell Belle how it was different now, she wouldn't laugh, but he knew she wouldn't believe him. But Scarlett _was_ different; and he meant to be different, meant to treat her differently, no matter how difficult she made it.

Rhett didn't sit in the parlor, didn't join anyone for cards. He took a glass of whiskey in his sitting room with Belle. They drank in silence for a while.

"How you doin', honey?" Belle asked. Rhett bit off a smirk.

"Just fine, Belle. Thank you, I'm just fine."

Belle's face was smooth as she set her whiskey down. With rustling skirts she crossed the room and disappeared behind his chair. Then he felt her hands on his shoulders, sliding down his chest, and her bosom pressed against the back of his head as she leaned over him.

Rhett rose hastily out of his chair, spilling whiskey down his leg. He might be able to reason with Scarlett, but not if he went home smelling of perfume.

"Thank you, Belle," he said hastily, setting down his own glass. "I believe I'll just get what I came for, then."

When he emerged from his bedroom, Belle was sitting back in her chair, with one empty glass on the table and the other in her hand. He tipped his hat and was nearly out the door when her voice stopped him.

"She hurts you, Rhett."

Half out the room, he looked away down the dark hallway. "I love her," he said, flatly, before leaving completely.

"We're both fools," Belle whispered to the whiskey.

…

In the end, he didn't know if she had locked the door or not. He didn't try.

…

At breakfast, Scarlett glowered at him from dark rimmed, dull eyes. Rhett ignored her sulk and devoted all his attention to the children, and she rushed out when her meal was done. Rhett decided his own business could wait, and he spent the morning chasing the children through the house playing hide and seek. Bonnie's feet always stuck out from her hiding places, Ella's giggles gave her away.

When he had decided Scarlett had had enough time to burn off at least some of her angry energy, Rhett mustered his ranks with the promise of ice cream and took the family to Kennedy's. The noisy troops stormed the store, Rhett strolling easily behind them, and surprised Scarlett kneeling on the floor in a back corner taking stock. They piled on their mother, pressing close for hugs and talking so loudly all at once even Rhett wasn't sure what they might be telling her.

"God's nightgown!" railed Scarlett, pulling herself to her feet with the support of the shelving. "Stop making such a racket!"

Rhett watched her lips twitch as she struggled with amusement, irritation at the small grasping hands, and the remnants of her anger with him. But Scarlett seemed to have relaxed somewhat into motherhood, since her return from Tara, and in the end she smiled as she lifted Bonnie to her hip. "What -are- you doing here?" she asked, ostensibly to the children, but her eyes moved to Rhett. He lifted the hat from his head with a sweeping gesture.

"My dear, we've come to take you for a treat."

Ella tugged sharply at Scarlett's hand. "Mama! Uncle Rhett is going to buy us all ice cream. Oh please say yes!"

Rhett's eyes were sharp as he watched Scarlett look around the store, her lips parted. Without their interruption, she wouldn't have been ready to leave so early. Bonnie leaned her head back on her mother's shoulder, saying "Please! Please!" over and over. Finally, Wade joined the chorus. "Please, Mother?" Rhett could see her eyes soften as she looked down at her son. Wade was still timid and wary, especially around his mother, but as her spirit had softened these last few months, his had warmed. Still, every gesture from him seemed to mean more to Scarlett than any from flighty and inconstant Ella, or easy, exuberant Bonnie.

Scarlett sighed and rested her hand on Wade's shoulder. "Yes, let's go have ice cream."

...

After supper that night, Scarlett went up to put the children to bed. She wanted to avoid him, still; most nights, Mammy and Prissy took the children, with promises from Rhett and Scarlett to look in on them and make sure of Bonnie's light. Rhett stayed at the table, a lit cigar glowing in the darkness, until he heard the familiar sound of her bedroom door closing. Over the last couple years, his ears had become attuned to that sound, shutting him out every night. It came from a specific corner of the house, the sound echoed in just such a way. If the night was very still, he could even hear the click of the latch. He had let her get away with this, two years ago. And two years ago, he would have left the house when he heard that sound; gone and found his comfort at Belle's. Even tonight, when he knew he had made her mad, and how; two years ago that wouldn't have mattered.

Tonight, when Scarlett's door closed, Rhett stubbed out his cigar and, moving quickly to the sideboard, poured two glasses of brandy. He took a fortifying sip from one and went upstairs.

He went to his own room, first. Resting the glasses on a side table, he bent and took from a drawer the small box he had retrieved from Belle's the previous night. It slipped easily into his jacket pocket. Picking up the brandy glasses again, he went to knock on Scarlett's door.

She didn't answer and he had not expected her to. Transferring both glasses carefully to one hand, he tried the knob. Unlocked. It turned easily and with a light push, the door swung inward.

Scarlett was already under covers, a long, narrow lump in the huge bed. The lamp next to her bed was still lit, and he could see the glare of her eyes above the top of the quilt. Crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed, he held out a brandy to her. Scarlett sniffed, disdainfully, and rolled over to give him her back.

"Suit yourself," Rhett murmured, and finished his glass before setting them both down next to the lamp. He reached for her then, cupping her small shoulders in his large hands. They dwarfed her fine bones. He felt her shiver, but her voice was strong and biting.

"Get your hands off me."

"No," he said simply, and leaned down to kiss the top of her back, the first bit of skin bare above the cover of bedding and nightdress. Her hair tickled his nose.

"Rhett!" She huffed, sitting bolt upright and turning to him with flashing eyes. He was tempted - she really had no idea, still, how beautiful her anger made her. Her eyes were deep and emerald, and twin points of color burned high on her cheekbones. She tossed her head proudly, and the long, straight black hair slid off one shoulder and down her back. He could see the weight of her breast now, cupped by the nightdress, and his throat went dry. No, as fun as it might be to provoke her, he didn't want to play games with her tonight.

"You're hateful, Rhett Butler, and I want you to go out of here right now. Leave me alone, you dirty - "

"Scarlett, stop," he cut her off, iron in his voice. They were both silent a moment.

"Whatever did Mamie Bart tell you, back then, about not having children?"

Scarlett's eyes widened, clearly dumbfounded. "Wh-what?"

"You remember. When you learned you were pregnant with Bonnie, and you came to me and said you didn't want to go through another pregnancy, and Mamie Bart had filled your head with ways to deal with it. What exactly did she tell you?"

"Oh - oh, that." Rhett watched the hot, angry circles on her cheeks soften and spread, becoming a diffuse blush of embarrassment. Just like a child, her face still showed every shift in her mood.

"Yes, that. What did she tell you?"

"Oh, I don't know, Rhett. She just said that there were...there were things, a woman could get - or some doctors who would - get rid of a baby..." Scarlett's voice trailed away and her expression was stricken. He thought of Bonnie, their beautiful little girl she hadn't wanted to be born, and he thought of the baby they had lost that year. He knew Scarlett's mind was bent along the same lines.

Rhett reached for her hand and squeezed it, gently, and Scarlett did not pull away.

"That's all? What to do if you - found yourself pregnant, and didn't want the baby?"

"Well, yes, Rhett, that's all." She tugged her hand free, her face going cross. "Why are you asking about this?" Her features went icily still. "You - you don't think - my fall? But I told you -"

"Scarlett, no!" Rhett grabbed her hand back and held it tightly. "No, I don't think that. I know you wanted that baby. We both did. That's not what I'm asking. Mamie didn't tell you anything more, about how a woman might prevent herself from getting pregnant in the first place?"

Scarlett shook her head, and her eyes held his but grew distant, as if she could see through his skull to the wall behind. "No. No. I don't - what?"

"I want you to trust me, Scarlett. I realize I haven't given you much cause for trust, but I hoped this might show you that you -can- trust me. I went to Belle's, last night, to get this — I didn't stay. I had a drink, and I came home." He placed the box on the bed between them. He hoped she wouldn't ask why he had this at Belle's; that discussion would only hurt her. And he had not actually slept there, with Belle, not in that way, since before that furious, erotic night after Ashley's birthday party. He had sought refuge, but not sex.

Scarlett looked down at the box then lifted her eyes back to him, uncomprehending.

"There are things a man can use - and things a woman can use, too, if you want - to prevent a pregnancy from happening." He nodded down at the box.

"What?" Scarlett's voice was a whisper. The color had drained from her face and she looked as white as the pillows behind her head. "You mean - after that, when - when I told you I didn't want more children...when I -" her eyes flitted to the door and back to his face.

He stroked his thumb softly along her knuckles as he answered. "I wanted you to want me, Scarlett." His voice dropped. "I wanted you to love me. You hurt me, and probably more importantly, you stepped on my pride. If you didn't want me in your bed, I didn't think you needed to know. And I wasn't sure, any way, if Mamie Bart had told you so much about one thing, that she wouldn't have told you more."

Scarlett had dropped her gaze, and was intently studying their hands. "I wish you had told me," she said in so faint a voice he had to lean forward to catch it.

He lifted her chin with his free hand. "Honey, I'm sorry."

She nodded, swallowed, looked away again. Rhett sighed. He pulled his hands back and shoved them into his pockets, leaning backwards slightly.

"Anyway, Scarlett. I just wanted you to know, now. I want you to decide what you want. I want to share your bed. Any babies you want to give me, I will love just as much as the ones we already have - all of them, Scarlett. Bonnie, and Wade and Ella. But it is still immaterial to me, my dear, whether we have just our three - or three more, or ten more."

Rhett looked away from her now, and reached for the second glass of brandy. After a few sips, he continued, without looking back, "It meant a lot to me, to share your bed again this week. I wanted to give you a choice, for the future." Any fool, Rhett thought, should be able to divine what he had not quite come out and said, how much he loved her. But Scarlett never could see even what was right in front of her face, unless it was spelled out for her. He was not quite ready to hand that over.

He felt her small, cool fingers sliding along his against the glass, pulling it out of his grip. She set it down on the table and rested her head against his shoulder. He had to tilt his head low again to hear her speak.

"I wanted our baby, Rhett. I - I would like, another baby, I think. But - not just yet? It - it has been so nice - you've been so nice. I think I would like to live, like this, with us - with the children. Just as we are. Just for a while."

Rhett pressed her head hard against his chest and lowered his head to kiss her hair. His jaw twitched as he mouthed the words, without sound.

"I love you."

…

_A/N: A "New Bakery on Marietta Street, near Spring Street, where they will constantly keep Fresh Bread, Cakes, Pies, Confectionary and Ice Creams" advertised in the Atlanta Daily Sun, June 14, 1871. That intersection is less than a quarter mile from Five Points._


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Although I upped the overall story rating, this chapter could go back to (a strong) T. There's just one racy moment. I will be posting one more chapter than I estimated because I split off the really racy bits from this into a separate chapter._

_..._

For Christmas, Scarlett brought home a box of the new German Christmas ornaments that had just come in at the store. With the children, they hung ornaments and fruit, and clipped candles onto branches. The children picked out their stockings to hang for Santa Claus.

Being the closest they had to family in Atlanta, Scarlett had invited the Wilkeses over for Christmas Eve. Rhett agreed for the children, who adored their Aunt Melly and Beau. He also thought, still tinged with bitterness, that he had not seen Scarlett and Ashley together since she sold the mills. To his knowledge, Scarlett had not seen him, either. She spent hours every week with Melanie, daylight hours when Ashley should be busy at the mills. She was now fully entrenched in interminable sewing circles ("Rhett, I swear, Fanny's been working on the same rose for a whole month, they'll never raise any money if they don't stop worrying about everybody else's business and finish their ugly pillows. Well I don't know who'd buy one, anyway!"), and shadowing Melanie on calls ("Rhett, most of those women will hardly even look at me, I don't know why Melly drags me with her anymore, it's just useless. I can't put the cream back in the pitcher, they know who I am and they're never going to like me.")

She had even, on one occasion, come back from the Wilkeses' house with the children, with her hair tumbling loosely down her back. Impeccable Scarlett, disheveled, in public, in the middle of the day; he had found her irresistible. She had stood at the foot of the stairs, shooing the children up to the nursery to wash and dress for supper and Rhett had pressed against her and cupped the back of her head in one hand, burying his fingers in her thick hair. He circled his other arm around her waist, pressing his palm low on her abdomen. He held still, his body thrumming with tension, until the last curl on Bonnie's head was out of sight, then he gently tilted her head to the side and pressed a kiss to the base of her jaw. He had kissed his way slowly down her neck, flexing his fingers in her hair, listening to her gentle gasps with each press of his long fingers. He lingered over her racing pulse until she stirred restlessly.

Lifting his head, he drew his hand from her head, threading his fingers down to the ends of her hair. The slide of the thick strands crackled over his hand with intimate electricity. Scarlett leaned her head back against his shoulder.

"Blind Man's Bluff."

"Hmmm?" He had lowered his head to kiss her jaw again.

"We played Blind Man's Bluff. Me, Melly, the children...the blindfold - I've left pins all over Melly's floor. She could probably use them, anyway..."

Rhett had chuckled, and Scarlett had squirmed as his mustache tickled her cheek.

The memory stirred him and he shifted uncomfortably behind his desk at the bank. Hell, it was Christmas Eve - time to go home to his lovely, tempting, tempestuous wife.

At home, he was somewhat astonished to find Scarlett in the sitting room with the children, painstakingly threading popcorn on thread. There were two large bowls, one mostly empty; judging by the scattered popcorn on the floor, someone had tipped it over.

Scarlett rose quickly and kissed him softly, but her nails dug into his arm. She had certainly changed around the children; but even with loving intentions, their exuberant chaos and childish temperaments still pushed the short bounds of her patience. Her skirts billowed as she raced out of the room, and he just snagged a piece of popcorn out of her hair before she disappeared. He helped Wade, Ella, and Bonnie hang the half-empty strings around the tree. He took them upstairs to the nursery and handed them into the care of Mammy to be readied for Christmas dinner.

Then he went to check on Scarlett in their room. _Their_ room. It was, again, and he knew he would fight to keep it that way. He felt foggy, mystified, and vaguely ashamed that he had ever let her change that. He had threatened to handcuff her to him when she was pregnant with Bonnie; if she ever tried to turn him out again, he would handcuff the both of them to their bed until she gave way.

The room was warm, with a strong fire built up. Rhett went through the open dressing room door and found Scarlett in the bath, her head tipped back against the edge so her hair hung down the outside of the tub. He shed his jacket and tie by the door, and rolling up his shirtsleeves, crossed the small room to kneel behind the tub.

He wrapped one forearm across her shoulders, the water lapping along the bottom of his sleeve. With his other hand he pushed the long hair out of the way and kissed the point where her ear met her neck. The water rippled as she shifted her legs.

"Rhett..." her voice trailed off weakly, and he ignored the vague protest. Letting go of her hair, the black curtain fell heavily against his cheek. He kissed her earlobe and nipped it gently, and the fingers of his free hand curled over her bare white shoulder that rose from the water.

Scarlett whimpered softly and arched her neck. Rhett ran his tongue lightly up the whorls of her ear while his hand slid slowly down her chest, disappearing into the warm water.

His fingertips had just reached her tight nipple when she shrieked and kicked, splashing water over the sides.

"Rhett!" she said again, with force. "Stop it. Dinner - we have to get ready for dinner."

His arms were still around her and he tweaked her nipple teasingly before releasing her and standing up. Looking down, he could see the blush that went from her hairline to below the top of the bathwater. Her vibrant green eyes were narrow and cross as she looked back up at him.

"You're wicked. Go on - go tell Mammy I'm ready to dress."

He braced his hands on the sides of the tub, next to her shoulders, and leaned down. "I'll help you, darling." He kissed her forehead, but she jerked her head away.

"Oh, no, you won't - if you help we'll have to hold dinner for an hour - no, I don't think I need your help, Rhett Butler."

He chuckled, and made to go - but one small hand caught his damp sleeve and tugged. He kneeled again, next to the tub, and she brought her hand up behind his head and pulled him close. Her eyes looked down at his mouth, her lips were a breath from his, but she did not make contact to kiss him. It seemed an agonizing minute they stayed like that; barely air between their mouths, their breath mingling' before Scarlett kissed him fiercely. He barely registered the flicker of her tongue along the seam of his mouth before her mouth was gone. "Go tell Mammy," she repeated, her voice solid and demanding, seemingly untouched. But her eyes glittered and her cheeks were still shining red like the apples on the Christmas tree downstairs.

Rhett felt like whistling as he strolled to the nursery to get Mammy.

…

Christmas dinner was warm and boisterous. Ashley alone seemed reserved and withdrawn; but with the energy from four young children buoyed by fine food and sweets and eager for presents, Rhett didn't think the ladies had noticed. When he could tear his gaze from Scarlett, he tracked the other man out of jealous habit. The study of Ashley Wilkes was almost a hobby, as he had long tried to puzzle out the other man's hold on his own wife.

But tonight, Scarlett hardly seemed to notice his rival, the object of her bitter obsession for years. And for his part, Rhett's gaze was caught by her more often than not. Her hair had been meticulously curled by Mammy with the new curling iron, caught up from her face with a bow then left long and loose down her back. She looked brilliant in dark green velvet, with a short collar framing her neck before plunging in a 'V' between her breasts - not scandalously low, but so very Scarlett, just the wrong side of what Atlanta would consider appropriate. With her face naturally flushed, in the glow of the candlelight, and an open smile ready at her lips, she was as alluring to him as she had ever been.

She was even more beautiful when she couldn't keep her eyes off him.

She laughed with Melly, but her gaze turned to him. Her head followed the rambling exchange between the children as they eagerly discussed Santa Claus and what presents they might bring, but she looked back at him from the corners of her slanted green eyes.

He didn't catch a single glance of barely-concealed longing at Ashley Wilkes; the smiles she turned on Rhett were happy and utterly _present_; as if her mind were on no one but him. As if her heart -?

When the dinner dishes were cleared, Rhett brought out four small, plain packages for Wade, Ella, Bonnie, and Beau.

"Captain Butler, you shouldn't have," said Melanie softly as the children tore through the paper to reveal four brand new, real steam powered locomotives, each painted a different color. Bonnie's, of course, was blue. Whooping with glee, Wade and Beau were gone from the table almost immediately. Melanie's reprimand trailed off weakly as they ran off unexcused. Ella glanced nervously at her mother, and at Scarlett's benign smile, she slipped away with Bonnie's hand in hers to join the boys at the train table in the nursery.

Dilcey brought a tray with the large bowl of egg nog and four tall glasses already full. When the glasses were emptied once, and refilled and emptied again, and both Melanie's and Scarlett's cheeks had gone flush and eyes a little glassy at the strength of the holiday brew, the Wilkeses made their excuses. Melanie fetched Beau from the nursery, and all the children trooped back downstairs to make their goodbyes. Melanie kissed them all and hugged Scarlett close - Scarlett, in turn, clasped her sister-in-law tightly. Rhett shook Ashley's hand and managed to control his sneer. Despite the warmth of the evening so far, he found his fist clenched after Scarlett turned her cheek for Ashley's goodbye kiss.

Warm, small fingers pried open his tight grasp and pressed into his palm.

The five of them stood in the open door to wave goodbye. Scarlett drew his arm around her waist and pressed close against his side, and he felt his heart relax.

They walked the children upstairs together. Scarlett kissed them goodnight at the top of the stairs and went to get undressed. Rhett swung Bonnie into his arms and walked Wade and Ella back to the nursery. He got Bonnie ready for bed and when Wade and Ella were ready, they all squeezed onto his lap in the corner chair to listen to him read "A Visit from St. Nicholas."

The children climbed into their own beds after that, but everyone had too much energy to settle easily.

"Uncle Rhett, have you ever seen him? Like in the story?"

"Uncle Rhett, will you wake us when our presents are here?

"Daddy where ARE my presents?"

Can we have water - when will Santa come - do we have to go to bed? Rhett went from bed to bed, kissed each forehead, pulled up their covers, putting out lights. Bonnie's lamp was barely high enough to stay lit, but she hadn't had a nightmare in weeks. He stood at the nursery door and his eyes were dark and firm as he said goodnight.

…

_A/N 2: According to __Kids' Stuff: Toys and the Changing World of American Childhood__, "toymakers offered miniature steam locomotives as early as 1872." I'm jumping the gun just a hair to get a cool present. I rather think somehow Rhett would be aware of the latest and greatest even in toys. I wouldn't put it past him to buy half a toy company when Bonnie was born._


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: This chapter is all M and can be skipped if you're not interested in that._

_..._

Rhett tugged his cravat free as he returned down the hallway. Scarlett met him back at the top of the stairs, green dress exchanged for a dark blue wrapper. Together - hand in hand, initiated again by her small seeking fingers threading through his own - they went back downstairs and brought out the children's presents from underneath the office desk into the parlor. Rhett reached behind a book and pulled out a small, green box on gold ribbon which he hung on the tree. Scarlett's eyes danced up at him as she reached out to cup the small gift.

"For me, Rhett?" she asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly, though such tricks had never moved him.

"Perhaps, Mrs. Butler."

She pouted, prettily but falsely, as they started back up the stairs.

"What did you get me, Rhett?"

"You only have to wait a few hours, Scarlett."

"You gave Wade and Ella and Bonnie a present tonight, shouldn't I get one, too?"

His stomach tightened as he thought of a ribald response to that question. In the bedroom, he swept her into his arms and leaned back against the closed door.

"What do you want, Mrs. Butler?" she squirmed as he tickled her cheek with his mustache, then kissed the corner of her jaw, the corner of her mouth.

"Rhett," she whispered, and her soft hands framed his face and tugged his mouth to hers.

"What do you want, Mrs. Butler?" he repeated, and, bending low, he slid an arm under her knees and lifted her up against his chest. He kissed her softly, his tongue teasing the corners of her mouth. She mewled against his lips and her hands slid slowly down his neck, inside his open collar.

Gently, he lowered her to the bed and pressed her back. His hands made quick work of the closings of her wrapper, slipping inside to press along her bare waist. She arched toward him and the wrapper slid away, baring her. His trousers grew tight and he worked the fastenings with one hand while he kissed his way between her breasts. Stepping free of his clothing, he joined her on the bed, his mouth moving with hot, open-mouthed kisses down the middle of her belly. He nipped the rim of her belly button and her stomach quaked against his mouth. She gasped, "Rhett!"

He chuckled and leaned back from her, unbuttoning and pulling off his shirt. Her arms were still in her wrapper, though it lay open from neck to toe. Her legs were sleek in their stockings, and green garters lay brightly on her pale thighs. Her legs shifted restlessly.

He brought his mouth down to hers and kissed her softly again, short, closed-mouth kisses to tease and tempt. His hands stroked her sides from her ribs, over her hips to the tops of her thighs, up and down again. Finally her hand clutched in the hair at the back of his head, holding his mouth still against hers, and he felt the tip of her tongue seek his lips. As he let her lead, deepening the kiss, her tongue tentatively exploring his mouth - she was so fiercely passionate, even demanding, but still insecure and unsure of herself at times - he held his body rigidly apart from hers. He was ready, hard and aching for her, but he wasn't done teasing her yet.

On their downward journey, he let his hands slide past her hips to the tops of her stockings. He rubbed his thumbs lightly across each leg to her inner thigh before smoothing his hands upward again. He could feel the heat between her legs, caught a hint of wetness on the tip of one thumb - but he stopped his hands.

Scarlett's lips fell away as her head fell back. Her hips arched restlessly, pushing towards his hands. He kept them carefully on her thighs.

"Please," she whispered. Her eyes fluttered open, clear, pale green, deep for all their lightness. Her color was high, and a hint of sweat had gathered at her hairline. Her legs tried to shift under his hands, to rub her thighs together, but he held her firmly, kept her still. Her back arched instead, but his hands stayed on her legs only.

"What do you want, Mrs. Butler?" he said again, his head still low over hers. He pressed a light kiss to each corner of her mouth.

He moved his thumbs in a slow sweep along her inner thighs.

She moved her legs now, fighting against the hands holding her still. "Touch me, Rhett - please -"

If she had more to say, he didn't let her finish. He took her mouth roughly, his tongue claiming her. His hands moved swiftly, two long fingers sliding inside her ready body, two more fingertips circling her rapidly. She moaned into his mouth and her hips jerked. The hand in his hair tightened, pulling painfully, and he felt her other arm twine around his shoulders. Her nails pressed half-moons into his skin. His hands moved quickly, precisely, and in another moment she was crying out into his mouth, her hips jerking spasmodically and he felt her tighten around his fingers.

He stilled his fingers, then withdrew them slowly. Reaching over to the table beside the bed, he slid the box of preventatives from a drawer and pulled one on. He brought the wet fingers of one to his sheathed cock, using her own arousal to prepare himself. Scarlett's mouth was moving almost violently on his, kissing him frantically, and he returned in kind, their tongues dueling - fighting for dominance as passionately as they had ever fought with words.

When he entered her she moaned into his mouth and her tongue curled fiercely around his own. Every muscle in his body was rigid with desire. He moved slowly, seating himself deeply before pulling back. When he withdrew a third time he felt her legs creep up his hips, trying to press him close again.

He had been sharing her bed for months now and every time, some indication of her desire - a kiss, a touch, a word, a moan that was just so - would tip his control over the edge. He would feel blessed, every day, by any indication that she was his - however much of her it was. Tonight he had seen, he was sure, the proof that her obsession with Ashley Wilkes had waned. It almost didn't matter, if she loved him, as long as whatever she gave him was his alone - and not shared with a ghost in his bed.

With her legs pulling him down to her body, his control fled. He drove his hips against her, thrusting rapidly, and when he felt his body tighten with the advent of release he relinquished her mouth to bury his lips against her throat. Her thick hair tickled his nose as he groaned his release into her damp neck.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed a hand against his hair, her legs still around his hips, holding him close. Rhett panted against her neck. As his sweat dried, he felt her shivering beneath him. He lifted his head, reaching to pull the blankets over them.

Her eyes stopped him. With only moonlight to see by, their color wasn't clear; just two dark pools in a silvery face. But he could see the shadow of a wrinkle in her forehead, a worried line, and their shape looked narrowed. She stared at him, and he couldn't decipher it. She held his gaze for a minute, maybe even more, before her eyes dropped towards his chest. He finished tugging up the blankets, smoothing them over her shoulders. She was still shivering as she rolled over and scooted back against him. He draped an arm around her waist.

His mouth was in her hair as he whispered - just another ritual that had developed in the last few months - the almost silent, unheard whisper soft against her black head.

"I love you."


	12. Chapter 12

A loud banging jolted them from sleep the next morning. The clanging and blasting noises made Rhett flinch and jerk his head up. For a brief, confused second, he was back in the war, in the artillery, in the rifle pits. He didn't often think of that time, even in dreams, and the disassociation was even more jarring than the noisy interruption to sleep. It made his heart thud heavily in his chest.

He forced his breathing to slow as Scarlett stretched languorously along his side, rubbing her cheek against his chest. Her hair caught and slid along on his arm, a light dragging sensation that curled his toes.

With another loud bang from beyond the bedroom door, Scarlett sat up abruptly. The sheets clung unevenly to her skin, sliding slowly down her side while she blinked, and her eyes darted around the room.

"Christmas," she said, stupidly, staring at the door. Rhett chuckled and pushed himself up.

"Christmas," he repeated, then kissed her softly. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Butler."

They heard a sparking, fizzy noise through the window, drifting up from the garden. Scarlett pushed him away. "Rhett, do go and make sure they don't burn the house down with those firecrackers? I don't know where they get them." He knew, but he wasn't about to tell her that he made sure Pork purchased them every year.

Rhett dressed quickly and casually in trousers, a shirt, and a dark blue smoking jacket. He slid his feet into plush house slippers - a gift from a Christmas past. He threw open the door and Bonnie squealed, "Daddy!" while Scarlett shrieked and ducked under the covers. "Rhett!"

He laughed and passed into the hall, closing the door behind him. Bonnie sat against the far wall in her nightgown and robe, with a pot in one hand and wooden spoon in the other.

"Good morning, my little drummer girl. Were you sent to wake us up?" Bonnie grinned.

"It's Christmas!"

"So it is, my dear. Do you want to go see the fireworks?"

"Yes!" Bonnie dropped her noisemakers and lifted her arms. Rhett swooped her up high above his head then carried her, shrieking with laughter, down the stairs and out to the garden.

By the time the small fireworks display was over, Scarlett had arrived out on the veranda. She kissed the tops of Wade's and Ella's heads, and accepted the reaching, squirming Bonnie from Rhett's arms.

"That was quite the display, son!" praised Rhett, clapping Wade manfully on the shoulder.

"Thank you, sir," Wade beamed. "Me and Pork -" But Ella cut him off, already eager for the next morning tradition.

"Mama, Uncle Rhett, oh can't we open gifts?"

"Gifts?" chuckled Rhett. "I don't know, are there any gifts, Scarlett?"

"Hmm," she hummed, swaying with Bonnie. "Why I'm not sure I saw any."

Mother - Mama - Uncle Rhett - Daddy! came the indignant chorus. Bonnie pressed her small pudgy hands on Scarlett's shoulders and pushed herself back.

"Mama I want my presents!"

Scarlett set her down. "You'd better go and see if you have any, then."

Wade's and Ella's longer legs outpaced Bonnie easily as the trio rushed through the house. Rhett wrapped his arm around Scarlett and they followed, listening to Bonnie's exhortations after her older siblings.

"Don't touch my presents! I'm going to tell Daddy!"

Pausing just outside the parlor, Rhett kissed his wife and whispered against her mouth, "Merry Christmas." He felt her lips smile against his.

The room was already in chaos as the children moved eagerly from tree to mantel. Rhett unhooked their stockings and handed them out, while Scarlett seated herself on a low velvet hassock set near the tree. Rhett sat near her on the matching chair. She handed the brightly wrapped parcels around to each child. There were new dolls for both girls, a shiny regiment of tin soldiers for Wade; and roller skates for all three to use at the roller rink. The emptied stockings each yielded a mountain of sweets, and a small orange from each toe.

Scarlett kept one long, shallow present on her lap, Rhett's name in graceful script on the tag. She ducked her head when she handed him the small parcel. He unwrapped a long gold frame with a photograph of each of the three children. Their names were scripted in elegant swags below each picture. He brought his head down to hers and kissed her cheek, feeling the heat of a blush under his lips. "Thank you, Scarlett," he murmured against her hot skin.

Rhett reached behind her and pulled the small green and gold box he had hung the night before off the tree. He held it out and she accepted it in her hand. Scarlett rested her hand in her lap and her fingers twitched over the ribbons, but stalled suddenly, then moved to circle her wrist, rubbing distractedly. She looked up at him, and he was astonished to see her clear eyes looking glazed, as if with a film of tears. The crease of a frown divided her forehead as it had late the previous night, but in the bright Christmas morning sunlight he could see confusion clearly in her eyes. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly once, then she leaned forward abruptly, crowding him, and kissed him.

"I love you," Scarlett whispered, in a rush of air across his mouth. Rhett pulled back in stunned abruptness and caught a glimpse of her burning cheeks before she looked away, her hair falling forward to hide her downturned face. The tumult of the children seemed to fade for an instant. He could hear the hoarse sound of his own breathing, counterpoint to Scarlett's quick, almost panting breaths.

The noise of Christmas morning washed back over him. Rhett carefully set the framed photographs down under the tree, then reached both arms around Scarlett's waist and hauled her off the hassock and into his lap. She squirmed, without much energy, and shoved her hands gently against his arms in weak protest.

"Rhett, stop. I'm sorry - please, let's just have Christmas - just never mind - forget -"

She was babbling nervously, incomplete sentences. He turned her sideways, and her slippered feet slid against the leg of the chair. He craned his neck to look at her, and had to reach a hand up to grasp her chin when she twisted her head away. Her eyes were luminous in the bright sunlight streaming through the opened drapes, light that caught and glittered in the tears pricking her thick lashes. He swiped them clean with his thumb, then pressed a soft kiss to her mouth.

"I've always loved you, Scarlett."

They both went still a moment, then he pulled away, seeking her gaze. Slowly, the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile that seemed, for an instant, shy.

Then she batted her eyelashes at him with the unerring instinct of the coquette, and Rhett roared with laughter and hugged her tight. Wade, Ella, and Bonnie, with sticky fingers and sugar-filled mouths, paused in the comparison of their bounty and looked up from the mountains of sweets they had emptied from their stockings.

As he looked about him, that Christmas of 1871, the happiest Christmas the state had known in over ten years, life glowed with warmth and grace, and love.

...

_"Yet what I can I give Him, give my heart" - __Christina Rossetti_


End file.
